


Do Over

by TheConfusedTissue



Series: Fixing The Past [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: And a Hug, Angst, BAMF Agent Washington (Red vs. Blue), Blood and Violence, Chorus Trilogy (Red vs. Blue), Counselor is a dick, Everyone Has Issues, Everyone needs a vacation, F/M, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Major Character Injury, Manipulation, Medical Inaccuracies, Meta!Carolina - Freeform, My First Work in This Fandom, Plans Go Wrong, Project Freelancer, Slow To Update, South needs a chill pill, Swearing, Team Bonding, Time Travel Fix-It, Trust Issues, Wash saves everyone.... Kinda, no beta we die like every version of Church, short chapters that get longer, the chapters are short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 07:26:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 46
Words: 46,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22570096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheConfusedTissue/pseuds/TheConfusedTissue
Summary: Washington is sent back in time, and decides to fuck up the Director's plans because he can't just sit by and watch as his friends slowly turn on each other again... Not this time.
Series: Fixing The Past [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052648
Comments: 522
Kudos: 361





	1. Well Fuck.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash takes a gamble.

"Get down!" Washington pulled Caboose back behind cover, saving the dark blue team member from getting shrapnel in his head as the grenade goes off. He looks at Grif, having to shout to be heard over the sounds of battle. "Keep him in place!"

"Me?" Grif shifts, his back pressed up against a tree. "Keep Caboose still? How?!"

"Just keep an eye on him!" Wash was already sprinting out from behind the warthog to get to a better position by the time Grif had spoke, and was in the process of jumping over a federal corpse. They had been ambushed on a simple supply delivery, cornered with their backs to a mountain, and half of his squad was already wiped out. The easiness of this mission is why he had just Grif and Caboose with him, rather than the whole team. Tucker had been bitching about having to "babysit" Caboose, and Grif kept complaining about Sarge randomly aiming his shotgun at him, so Kimball had seized the opportunity and temporarily switched the two. She said it was to give them a change in pace, which would hopefully help improve their moods, and that would boost moral in turn. Yeah, so much for that plan. Wash shakes his head, reloading his gun before he starts to shoot at the mercenaries again. He needs to end this quickly. They're outnumbered, outgunned, and not nearly as skilled as their enemies. If it keeps going like this, his team will be wiped out. If he had Carolina with him then they'd be fine, or even Tucker, but Wash can't keep the soldiers safe when they're in such a bad position. He gets behind a boulder, peeking his head out to see if there was any way out of this. If he could just make it past that first group, then maybe he could get behind the others and shed some blood. However, that would mean that he would be too far to provide immediate help to what remained of the soldiers who were assigned to him, and that was an unacceptable risk. He would not compromise their safety, especially not when anyone from his colorful simulation troopers was on that team. 

With that, Washington decided to pull an even riskier move, but this time it would just be his life on the line. No biggie, he could live with him getting himself killed... Well, not literally, but still. He chucks a grenade at the mercenaries, waiting for it to explode before running to an overturned crate that had fallen off one of the warthogs. He grabs a future cube, turning to where his soldiers are huddled together. He bites back a comment about spacing themselves out, throwing the future cube at them. Grif's shouts of 'Oh shit' are abruptly cut off as he and the others disappear, having been sucked into it along with a good chunk of the supplies that they were supposed to deliver. Good, Chorus could use all the tools and weapons it can possibly get. 

Wash turns, chucking the grenade as hard as he could and watching as it just barely gets over ledge of the mountain and back on the road, giving his people the much needed high ground in this fight. However, that now makes him an even bigger target than he was before. He quickly ducks behind the overturned crate for cover, bullets raining down on the spot he was just moments before. He's blinded by a flash of bright light, and it occurs to him that maybe he should have moved before the future cubes were shot, but it's too late for that.. Well fuck. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not done with this Chapter yet, I'm just posting this to get it out there. I'll update soon, but until then, enjoy! 
> 
> Edit: All right, chapter finished. Leave a comment please!


	2. The Bad Old Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash finds himself in a situation that is all too familiar, and he doesn't like it one bit.

Wash doesn't know how long the nothingness exists for. It seems to be forever, and yet, he also feels like he just got here. He has called everyone he possibly can over the comms, and got nothing back. No one answered, but then again, how could they? He didn't have the time to have called everyone... Did he? Did he try calling Tucker first, or had he just thought about it? Wait, no, he remembers trying to reach Grif for.. No, it was Carolina he... Epsilon?... No, Sarge...

All too soon/late, Washington is thrust out of the nothingness and into something. He sees the ground rushing up towards him, the buildings soaring up as he passes their windows, the Sarcophagus just out of his reach, a ship shooting at him and.. His teammates. North is just a little up and to his right, falling as well. David racks his brain, trying to find an answer for why he's back on the mission with Project Freelancer, and for why he just thought of himself as David... He hasn't done that in years. 

"Washington! Focus!" He hears York's voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

"Uh, y-yeah! Okay!" Wash maneuvers himself towards the Sarcophagus, landing on top of it with a heavy thud. He takes a deep breath, sitting up and shooting at the ship. He searches his memory to find out what happens next after this, trying to work against the panic settling into his chest, only for the box to suddenly be pushed sideways. He flies through the air, crashing into the pelican along with the box, and mumbles quietly to himself. "Oh right, Tex."

She glances back, casting a glance his way before dropping her busted jetpack and leaping out of the pelican. Wash hurries to the edge of the door, looking out of it and watching her fall as he thinks. On this mission, Maine will be injured badly, and given Sigma to make up for his inability to communicate. This will lead to him becoming the Meta, Carolina becoming distant, North's death, South's betrayal, her death, the death of most of the AI's, and eventually Maine's own demise.

Wash clenches his hands into fists, glaring at the collapsing building. He won't let it happen again, not this time.

With that, he leaps out of the pelican to follow Tex. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you see two sets of notes, I apologize for that. It's a glitch, just ignore the one that says the chapter isn't finished. Anyways, thank you for reading, and leave a comment! I appreciate any kind of review, be it positive or negative, so long as you're not just trolling.


	3. Making a Difference

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the chapter suggests, Washington decides to change things.

Washington realizes too late that he doesn't have a jet pack, but if Tex can do it, so can he... Scratch that, this was a horrible idea, but it's too late to go back on it now. He wonders if 479er noticed that he was gone yet... It might be for the best, since he doesn't need any outside interference interrupting whatever he's about to do, but he would like some backup. Maybe he could get Tex in on this? No, it would take too much time to either explain what's happening or make something up, and she doesn't exactly have the best track record of being a team player. Besides, she has her own mission from the Director, which Washington knows that he won't be able to pull her attention away from. 

The ground has come significantly closer during his thinking, and Wash is running out of time. His eyes go to Tex, and he sees that she's using a grappling hook. Son of a bitch. He just stupidly jumped out of the back of the nice, safe pelican, without so much as a thought for what he was going to stop himself from being flattened against the ground. Cursing himself, Wash looks around in hopes for something to at least slow his descent, and spots one of the enemy ships flying nearby. Feeling incredibly lucky, Wash turns himself to the right and heads towards it.

He crashes into the glass, shattering it and landing on top of the pilot. Ignoring how much that hurt, Washington quickly tries to hit the Insurrectionist, but he's easily blocked and pushed off. The pilot gets up and kicks at Wash, who rolls over and pushes himself to his feet. He ducks beneath a punch, then runs forwards and slams his shoulder into the pilot's stomach to tackle him. This works, but it has the unexpected result of them crashing into the controls and throwing the plane off of it's balance. Oops. The pilot shoves him away, trying to stop the ship's plummet, but Washington throws a knife into the man's back. The pilot crumples, falling over and dying pretty much instantly. 

With the immediate threat eliminated, Wash runs towards the controls. The ship is already too close to the ground for him to pull a 479er move and fly it properly, but he can at least attempt to crash in a non-lethal way. He turns the controls, frantically trying to guide the ship towards the road. It clips the edge of a building, sending it spinning. Wash grabs onto the pilot seat, bracing himself for impact. It crashes into the ground, skidding across the highway. Cars swerve to avoid the ship, which comes to a halt after knocking over a street light. Wash groans, having been thrown to the floor despite gripping the chair like a lifeline. 

"Gotta... Keep moving..." He pushes himself up, stumbling over to the shattered front window and climbing out of it. Washington trips as he tries to step down, falling on his face. He rolls over, looking up at the sky as he draws in a breath. Before he pulls himself up. "Okay... One foot after the other." 

Washington walks a few steps down the road, pausing and looking around. His eyes fall on a motorcycle that a woman has gotten off of, staring at the wreck with her phone in her hand. He nods slowly "That will work."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore the second set of notes, this chapter is finished. Thank you for reading. Comments and criticism are always welcome!


	4. Maine, You Owe Me One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington catches up with the Freelancers.

Wash speeds down the road, gripping the handlebars. His teammates are on the road to his left fighting Insurrectionist, and they haven't noticed him yet. Maine was injured, having been shot in the chest by a sniper. Still, that didn't stop him from jumping out of the warthog and onto the back of the cargo truck. He tries to tackle an enemy, only for them to dodge out of the way and deflect the next punch he throws. Carolina presses her back up against his, transferring the package back over to Maine as they both take on the Insurrectionists who were attacking them.

  
"On the right!" York throws the Grif shot at Carolina, who catches it in a flip and, in one fluid motion, cuts the soldier and them stabs it through his chest. The soldier manages to toss a pistol at the one attacking Maine, and Wash decides that now is a good time to act.

  
"Hey fuckface!!" Washington jumps the gap between highways, his shout drawing the attention of the Insurrectionist and causing their shot to only graze Maine's helmet rather than going through his throat. That doesn't stop them from throwing his white armor clad teammate on the ground and aiming to shoot his throat, but it buys enough time for Wash to change the course of events. He dives off of the motorcycle, sending it crashing into the Insurrectionist that was standing over Maine and knocking them off of the truck. Wash lands, rolling a bit and almost sliding off of the vehicle as well.

  
"Wash?! What are you doing here?!" York shouts and swerves to avoid getting hit by the motorcycle.

  
"Trying not to die?" Wash says as he pulls himself back onto the truck.

  
He hurries over to Carolina, who is helping Maine stand. Two hornet ships fly overhead, a soldier standing on the side of one starts shooting. Maine growls, lifting the massive gun in his hands and firing at it. The wing takes damage, yet the pilot manages to crash the small ship into the front of the truck. This causes a wreck, and while Maine and Carolina are able to right themselves and get to York's warthog, Washington loses his footing and misses it by a long shot. He bounces across the road, getting hit by a semi going the opposite way as him, which throws him off of the highway. He feels intense pain radiate through every muscle of his body, and then blacks out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that in the show, Maine was the one who was hit by a truck and that the vehichle crashed differently, but this is Wash fucking with the timeline. Also, as for why he was the only one who didn't get to the warthog, Washington isn't exactly going the best right now. He just dragged himself out of a hornet ship wreck, and launched himself from one freeway to the other and landed roughly. That, added to the fact that he's in the past and is on the verge if panic, Washington slipped up and got himself ran over.  
> I'm sorry that this chapter is so short. I'll try to make them longer in the future, but until then, enjoy! Also, leave a comment!


	5. The Medbay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington wakes up in an all too familiar place.

Wash can smell where he is before he sees it, the barely present fumes of medicine seeming all too strong to him. He quickly does a mental scan of his body, taking in the stiffness of his limbs and how sore everything is. He has multiple bandages wrapped around different places, and his left arm is in a cast. The bed is fine, but the mattress has a lump in it and the blanket is a little thin. He's in a hospital, but why? What happened? 

Thinking back on his recent memories is a struggle, so he tries to go back a little further to something concrete. The reds and blues. They crashed on Chorus, joined a war, they were betrayed by Felix, Wash was given a high position due to experience, he went on a supply run, he sacrificed himself for the team... No, that had to have been a fever dream or some sort of hallucination. Wash was injured during the fight, and now he's laying on a bed in the Chorus hospital, and not in the medbay of the Mother of Invention.

Despite his self assurances, it still takes Wash a solid minute to pry his eyelids open and survey the scene around him. He wished that he didn't, since it just confirmed the nagging feeling that he was wrong. North is sitting to his left, probably using the data pad in his hands to finish a report, and South is using his shoulder as a pillow. York is sitting to his right, flicking his lighter on and off boredly. Maine is also on his right, splayed out on the chair and half asleep. 

Wash quickly squeezes his eyes shut, holding his breath. They're alive, and here, right in front of him. He's the one in the hospital bed, not Maine. He saved Maine, changed his friend's fate, but what does that mean? Will Carolina become the Meta now? He didn't fix things, just changed the victim. Fucking hell, this day can't get any worse. Oh wait, it wasn't even the same day. Half of yesterday was spent in an entirely different decade, and he's probably been out for more than just a few hours. Did all of that even take place yesterday? 

"Hey Wash, you okay?" York's voice is worried, but not too concerned. Fuck, he forgot to keep pretending to be asleep. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm fine.." Washington opens his eyes again, looking at his not dead teammates. They're staring, so he spits out the first words that come to his mind "The lights are a bit too bright." 

It was a shitty excuse, but North nods and accepts it anyways. "You took a heavy hit, do you remember anything?"

"I was ran over, right?" Wash attempts to sit up, only to sharply inhale from the pain. His ribs really don't like him right now.

Maine gently pushes him back into the bed and shakes his head. "Stay down."

"Yeah, after apparently getting into a crash before hand. What were you thinking?" North's voice is serious, but he's grinning slightly. Wash can tell that he's messing with him. 

"I was thinking that you guys could use some backup." Wash casts a glance towards Maine. "It turns out I was right."

"Yeah, you came just in time." York sits back, putting the lighter away. "One second later, and Maine would be even less talkative!"

Maine elbows York, who chuckles and gives him a playful shove back. Wash smiles, missing this. He should be panicking, all things considered, but he just can't find it in him to freak out. Which is probably a good thing, since explaining that to the others here would be a pain in the ass. He casts a glance at South, who is watching York and Maine with an annoyed look for waking her up... Maybe he can save them. It'll take a miracle, but he just might be able to get them back to his timeline. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done! Sorry if the characters seem a little OOC. I'll try to stick as close to what they would usually do as possible Please leave a comment, and enjoy!


	6. Putting Things Into Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington spends some time alone with his thoughts.

Washington walks down the hall of a relatively unused part of the Mother of Invention, chewing over the thoughts in his mind. He was released from the medbay late at night, well, around the time that most of the people go to sleep on this ship. Taking the opportunity for some solitude, he set off down the corridor, and that's how he ended up wandering around without a purpose. As Tucker (and all the reds) would put it, he's brooding. As Wash would put it, he's trying to put things into perspective. He swears that there is a distinct difference between the two, regardless of how similar they look.

He stops at a window, looking out into the vast expanse of space. The universe is huge, and has a way of fucking him over where ever he goes, so Washington is going to take the time to ensure that things go right. First and foremost, he needs to maintain a passable impression of his old self at all times. This is either going to be incredibly hard, or stupendously easy. He was able to act somewhat normal in the medbay, excusing his behavior by saying that he was tired or that the pain killers were making him groggy. That excuse always got a sympathetic smile from North, an eyeroll from South, and light teasing from CT and York. It was harder to convince Carolina that he was fine, since he kept slipping up and acting like she was the Carolina he knew on Chorus. Thankfully, she only checked on him twice, and didn't stay long either time. 

Speaking of her, what is he going to do about Sigma? Normally, Maine would have had the insane AI, but he won't be needing it since he still has his voice. Wash takes a moment to consider if he should stage an accident on a mission where he activates his EMP just a _little_ bit too close to Carolina, but he dismisses the idea. It would draw too much attention to him, and he's certain that she would be able to speak up about Sigma if he dared to cross her. Still, better to be safe than sorry, so Wash needs some sort of backup plan if Carolina is endangered. 

..... Or does he? Does he really need to change the past, or can he find a way to return to his time? Is this even the same timeline? Wash ponders it, then shakes his head. No, this has to be different universe, it just wouldn't make sense otherwise. If that's the case, then maybe his goal shouldn't be to take down Project Freelancer and save his friends, but to help them escape the Director and join his universe. 

Washington thinks for a while, making the basic outline of a plan. He keeps it simple, easily adaptable if something goes wrong. Knowing his history with the universe, it will. That's fine, Wash can handle it. He'll be able to save them this time, and whoever gets in his way will be sorry. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can probably guess, I'm not following the same logic as the last season where they actually did time travel with Krovos and the Everwind. Nah, I'm doing my own multi-verse thing. As always, I hoped you enjoyed!


	7. The Good Old Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington spends some time getting back into the swing of things, reliving the simpler, better days that he used to as an oblivious rookie.

He slips, falling and hitting the side of his head on the ground. Thank goodness for helmets, otherwise he'd probably have about 12 concussions by now. As Washington gets his hands underneath his body to push himself up, he's enveloped with the cold chill of pink ice and a sudden stiffness to all of his joints. He sighs, unable to move during armor lock, but he probably wouldn't be of much help to his team anyways. Not that he wasn't able to hold his own, but in order to keep up his facade of that new bright eyed rookie, he had to let his ass get handed to him a few times. By South, no less. As much as he would love to add a few extra dents into her armor, he can't risk putting this mission at jeopardy just to knock her down a peg. Still, does she have to act like she's better than him? Granted, at this point of time, she was more skilled than he was, but that's not the point. She should have helped train him instead of constantly gloating. 

.... He's starting to sound like North. 

Right as a cramp forms in the back of his thigh, the armor lock releases as F.I.L.S.S announces the winners. He catches himself from collapsing, rubbing his leg. York walks over and offers him a hand up, one that Wash accepts. "You've really gotta watch your back, man."

"Yeah, I know." Wash sighs almost dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck and trying to seem sheepish. 

It must have worked, because York chuckles and pats his shoulder. "How about we go grab something to eat? I'm starving."

"Sounds good." Washington takes York's pistol, putting it back with the other training equipment. 

He walks back over to York, who has met up with South, CT, and North. They all head towards the cafiteria, talking about a previous mission that Washington was left out of due to his injuries sustained on the Sarcophagus mission. They grab their food and sit at a table, Washington is just fine with only a juice box. They fall into a playful banter that he, for the most part, stays out of. He does listen to it closely, though, trying not to smile too much underneath his helmet. These circumstances should really be less enjoyable, but he can't keep the corners of his mouth from rising at the antics of his old friends. 

South rolls her eyes, scoffing "Well at least I didn't trip the alarms."

"Hey! That was not my fault!" York says this before taking a bit of his food.

"Then whose fault was it?" South raises an eyebrow, knowing that she has him cornered.

"Not mine!" York looks across the table, his eyes falling on Connecticut. "CT, tell her it wasn't my fault!"

CT smirks, twirling her fork around her plate "It totally was."

He places his hand over his heart in mock offense "You traitor!"

North chuckles, almost as amused as Wash is right now. "Okay okay, you both made mistakes last mission. Now pipe down before we get in trouble, all right?" 

Washington sips his juicebox "In trouble for what?

"Dude, don't drink with your helmet on." York gives him a stern look, but it's ruined by his almost ever present grin. 

After that, they ignore his question and go back to talking, as they always used to. Man, Wash really let them walk all over him, didn't he? At least he could use that to his advantage. If they don't pay all that much attention to him, then hopefully the Director won't notice him either. This way, he'll be able to dig up some useful info against Project Freelancer, which will be important if he wants to convince CT to stay. 

South throws a banana at North, who ducks and let's it hit CT. York grins "Food fight!!" 

Oh. This is what they'll get in trouble for. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right! This chapter is done. It's more of a filler, but I enjoyed writing it, so I hope you enjoyed reading it. Leave a kudos if you liked it, and comment any thoughts or opinions!


	8. That Was A Mistake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things finally catch up to Washington.

Washington stands in the briefing room, listening to the Director go over the details of an upcoming mission. They're supposed to infiltrate another Insurrectionist base, gather more information that they won't be informed of the details on, and kills some more people after the mission goes sideways. Why had he never noticed how repetitive his job was before? He must have been focused on other things, but still, how could-

"Agent Washington, I suggest that you pay attention from here on out." He takes a step back, the Director's face suddenly too close to his. 

Repressing the urge to shove him away, Wash clears his throat. "Uh, yeah, sure.. I-I mean yes sir!" 

The Director stares at him for a moment before continuing the debriefing. "As I was saying, you'll be heading in underneath the cover of darkness. This should provide some help when it comes to stealth, which I have no doubt you'll need." He casts a glance at South, who clenches her fists and bites back a comment. 

Wash snorts in amusement, but a stern look from the Director is all it takes for him to straighten his posture up. Following in the fashion of young rookie Washington, he decides to spit out an apology. "Sorry, sir. I-"

"Agent Washington, you were supposed to have been off of pain medication by now." The Counselor writes something down on his data pad. 

"I... What?" Wash blinks twice. 

"That's what this is, isn't it?" The Counselor looks at him. "Your lack of attention, confusion, and day dreaming could be a side effect of the medication you were on from your previous injuries. I already sent a message a note to the medical staff, but I'll create another one."

"I... Yes sir." Washington can't help the surprise in his voice. He was expecting to be chewed out by the Director, not to be bailed out by the Counselor, who some would argue that he hated more than Carolina's father. 

"If that is all of the interruptions we'll be having, then we'll continue onto the finer points of this operation." The Director drones on about the upcoming mission, which Washington pays closer attention to this time. 

After they're excused into the hall, Carolina gets in front of him. "What the hell was that?"

"I'm sorry, boss. It won't happen again." He tenses slightly, knowing that he came too close to blowing his cover in there. I mean seriously, almost laughing during a mission debrief? He's going to get an earful for that. 

"You're sorry?" South stalks over, her hands still clenched at her sides. "What the fuck, Wash? What was so damn funny?" 

Oh boy. Yeah, he messed up big time. No biggie, he can talk his way out of this. He just needs to choose his words carefully. "I wasn't laughing at you." 

"Then who were you laughing at?" South glares at him, the expression showing through her posture despite having a helmet on. 

Washington casts a glance back at the briefing room, which is an acceptable distance away, then looks back at the other agents who have come to stand by South and Carolina. Some of them weren't even in the room before, but the whole "laughing/snorting during a debriefing" was causing a commotion. 

He sighs, deciding to answer them before South pops off at him again. "I was laughing at the Director." 

"Explain." Carolina folds her arms over her chest, yet her voice isn't angry. She's genuinely curious. 

"I mean that he's an asshole." Washington almost folds his arms as well, but decides to refrain from that. "He just had to throw in that jab about stealth at South which, don't get me wrong, was both true and completely uncalled for."

South changes her pose, looking slightly less angry but still quite defensive. "What do you mean?"

"You're not good at stealth. Frankly, I don't know why the Director keeps sending you on missions that involve it." Wash sees her fists clench again, so he says the next part quickly. "But, while you're not a silent assassin, you're great at hand to hand combat. You're great at fighting, but sneaking around isn't your forte. So, why does he keep including you in those kinds of missions? Why not send you in as much needed backup, or even on a separate mission where stealth isn't needed to succeed? Why does he have to point out your flaws, and not your virtues?" He pauses, letting her take that in before continuing. "I know I shouldn't have snorted, but his behavior was a bit too much for me." 

South thinks it over, looking at him as if assessing the truth of his words. After a moment, she walks past him, bumping into his shoulder with hers. While it's still a very passive aggressive move of the South variety, it's better than her cussing him out, which Wash is grateful for. Still, he's left behind with the others, who are watching him closely. 

Carolina shakes her head and leaves, going in the direction of the training room, and York claps his hand onto Washington's back. "You sure you don't have brain damage?"

"York, give him a break." North smiles. "It's like the Counselor said: He's just being affected by the meds."

"I... Yeah. Could you excuse me?" Without waiting for an answer, Wasington slips past them, quickly heading down the hall in the opposite direction of South. He quickly reaches the barracks, going into his room and taking off his helmet. He sets it on the bed, running a hand through his hair as he paces back and forth. 

What was he thinking? Snortning, and then claiming it was because he found the Director to be an asshole. Way to maintain a cover, Wash! That undoubtedly just drew attention to him, which will be a pain in the ass from now on. Sure, what he said was half true, but that wasn't the entire reason for his amusement. While he was 100% honest in saying that he didn't like the way things were run, he was definitely lying about not laughing at South. After the shit she pulled in his timeline, he felt immense satisfaction at watching her be knocked down a peg. Yet showing that wasn't going to earn him any favors, and he needed all the help he could get if he was going to pull this off. 

... But did he really want to save South? She had shot him in the back, killed North, sacrificed Theta, and tried to do the same with Delta, all to save her own ass from the Meta. How could he trust her after all of that? Even if she didn't commit those acts of betrayal yet, she was more than capable of becoming that person again. However, was Washington really any different? He shot Donut, and Lopez, something that he still hadn't fully forgiven himself for. He recovered the dead bodies of the agents he once called his friends with little to no remorse, he worked for Project Freelancer even after he found out what happened, he dragged Doc through the desert with the Meta, he killed South... He killed her... He felt nothing but a jumbled and numb sort of joy at burning, blowing up, and shooting her corpse. South did what she did to survive, no matter how fucked up it was. He did what he had done out of anger, resentment, and a lust for revenge. In some ways, he was worse than her. 

Besides, what would North say? There was no way that he would leave his twin behind, and Washington owed it to him to at least give South a chance. However, the moment she blew that chance was the moment he killed her all over again. Being with the reds and blues had helped him become more of a human again, but there was still cracks that remained, left behind from his time during and after this project. He was covered in metaphorical scars, and those wounds that had once run deep were reopened again. He was surrounded by traitors and dead friends, not knowing who to trust or even if he should try to involve someone in his plan. Would they believe him? Washington hardly believed it himself, which was why he had gone so long pretending that things were normal, that he didn't have anything to worry about. Well, that wall had been broken down, and over something so small as an inopportune snort. It would seem that he was more fragile than he thought. With his colorful idiots, Washington felt secure, safe, and grounded. Here? He was in the middle of a battle, one that he was designed to lose. 

The door opens, and Washington stops his pacing to look at CT. Her helmet is off, her eyes set in a serious expression as she enters the room and closes the door behind her. 

"We need to talk." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So I finally realized that, while it was fun to write, Washington's "honeymoon phase" of convincing himself that things were fine was lasting too long. Thank you for the comments, because knowing me, he would have kept on lying to himself for a few more chapters, and that would have slowed the story down a ton. Next chapter will bebe from the POV of CT! I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to comment!


	9. From Her Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CT wants to discuss something with everyone's favorite rookie.

CT looked at Washington, who had stopped mid-pace to turn and stare back at her. She had removed her helmet, hoping to have put him at ease by seeing her face, but she hadn't expected to have found him without his on as well. All of them rarely took off their armor, but he was very attached to it's protection, even so far as to eat with on. Seeing him without the helmet was a bit of a surprise, to say the least, but it was a welcome one. She won't have to rely too much on body language for the direction of this conversation, which was good for her, since facial expressions are far easier to read. 

"We need to talk." 

Washington sighed, straightening himself up and closing his eyes for a moment before looking back at her. "Yeah, I suppose we do." 

After stepping into the room and closing the door, CT spoke. She kept her focus on those eyes, because while the rest of his face seemed young and unmistakably like him, those two grey and white orbs were that of a complete stranger's. "Did you really mean what you said in the hall?"

"Most of it." When did Washington become so cryptic? 

"What's that supposed to mean?" She folds her arms over her chest. 

He sighs again, sounding far older and much more tired than he should be. "Nothing, I just... What I said about the Director being an asshole was true. The way he runs things is beyond fucked, but why am I explaining this to you? If anything, you would know this already."

She allows her eyes to narrow, giving him a sense of her suspicion for what that comment meant. "What makes you think that?"

"Don't play dumb, CT. Faking oblivious isn't a good color on you." He sits down on the bed, then lays his upper body back with his legs hanging over the edge of the bed. "You know what I'm talking about."

She knows exactly what she thinks he's talking about, but that can't be right. She had them all fooled, pretending to be the good little soldier, trying to slowly plant seeds of doubt with quiet comments or seemingly meaningless questions... Or had she? Clearly, she wasn't able to convince Washington, or maybe this wasn't even his own doing. The Director or the Counselor could have caught onto her, and put Washington up to laughing and then luring her into a false sense of security so that she openly admits her plans and gets recorded by a hidden camera. But if that's the case, why is he so damn casual? Either Washington is a professional actor, and has been pretending to be a bright eyed rookie who can't go 10 minutes without saying or doing something endearingly embarrassing, or he really was that rookie and something happened to bring about this change in him. But what? 

She sighs, relaxing her tensed shoulders. Best to play it safe. "Okay, your point?"

"I want to work with you." That wasn't what she expected. Him openly admitting that is definitely pointing towards this being a trap. 

"What?" She bites her lip, not having meant to sound so surprised. 

Washington sits up, looking her dead in the eyes. "I. Want. To. Work. With. You."

She swallows, choosing her next words with care. "Let's say I believe you. Why would you want to do this?"

"Because I hate the Director as much as you do, if not more." She can see it in his eyes the way that his hatred flares up, the grey irises almost getting a flaming red tinge at the burning anger behind them. This is no trap. 

"All right... What can you bring to the table?" She decides to stick to the safe route both because of her natural caution, and a sudden newfound fear of what the supposed rookie might do if she refused him. 

"I won't bring you in, for starters." Washington's eyes go back to that tired stare, and she wonders if she had just imagined his previous rage. "That, and I can offer some pretty valuable information."

So he had found something, and that made him question his loyalty. CT could work with this. "Like what?" 

He smirks softly, knowing that he's got her attention. "Project Freelancer has been assigned one AI to work with, but soon, we'll be getting multiple fragments on the field. One by one, the top agents will go into implantation. Most of the AI fragments are stable, some aren't. What's important is that how the Director is making them is highly illegal, and if that information gets into the right hands..."

"... It could cause some serious damage." She thinks it over. It would be some pretty valuable information indeed. "How do you know this?"

"I can't tell you that. Not yet, anyways." Washington gets up. 

She nods "I get it, you need some sort of protection if this goes sideways. Fair enough."

He smiles tiredly, a sort of lopsided half grin. "Yeah, amongst other things. Anyways, I will gladly provide you more concrete evidence, but on my own time. It'll take a while for me to find this, but have your people look into what was really in the Sarcophagus."

"All right." She doesn't quite know whether she can trust him yet or not, but she's not about to refuse his help. 

"Another thing, I don't work for you. I'm more than willing to get my hands dirty, but I have my own agenda, and while accomplishing your goal of taking this corrupt branch down is a part of it, I won't put my plans at risk for yours." He walks towards the door, stopping to look at her. "And please, trust me."

With that, he walks out into the hall, leaving CT alone with a lot of things to think about. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wash finally talked to someone! Yay! Don't forget to comment!


	10. Focus, Man. You've Got This.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash is looking for some alone time, and he bumps into Wyoming.

Washington walks down the hall, heading away from his room (and consequentially CT) at a steady pace. It's not fast enough for him. Still, it's not like he can just take off into a full blown sprint no matter how much he would love to put some distance between the two of them. He has a reputation to keep up, after all. That, and he wouldn't want to just shatter that calm and collected ally facade that he had just put up for CT by running off with his tail between his legs. How he managed to do that, he's not sure, but Wash isn't going to question it. He can probably just chalk it up to a need to find a friend or just get home, but right now, all he can feel is the need to escape. So he speeds up his walk a little more, briskly making his way down the hall towards a mostly unused part of the ship: The storage bay. Only a few people will be there, if any, and there's almost a guarantee that they won't be agents. A little space, along with some peace and quiet, is exactly what Washington needs. Or he hopes it is, since it's the farthest away from everyone that he can get right now, but he could probably do with some of the reds and blues bickering. Or maybe some of his present day version of Carolina sparring with him, and not her glaring at him for slipping up. Hell, Washington would even go for some of the Feds and News needing him to walk them through some simple training exercises for the third time that week.... He never should have taken his life for granted. Even if he was fighting in a civil war that wasn't his own, it was far better than being on the wrong side of- 

"Hey chap, I almost didn't recognize you!" Son of a bitch. He just had to encounter Wyoming, of all people. Still, he supposes that it's better than South. 

Wash frowns softly. "Why wouldn't you have recognized me?" 

Wyoming folds his arms over his chest, his tone jovial. "You rarely go anywhere without your helmet, even eating with it on - Which is gross, by the way - so it's safe to assume that I would rarely see your face."

"Oh, right.." Washington has to repress the urge to touch his face to check if his helmet actually wasn't there. Instead, he settles for mentally face palming. How could he forget to grab his helmet? Granted, he was just in a high stress situation, but he should have at least been able to remember to grab the damn thing. "So what are you doing down here?"

"Nothing of your concern, chap! And how about you? Trying to get away from the other agents?" Wyoming chuckles, enjoying putting the "rookie" on the spot a little bit too much. "I don't blame you after that mess."

"Yeah," Washington sighs. "I don't know what I was thinking. I mean, I know I'm tired, but-"

"Yes yes, poor you." Wyoming shakes his head, huffing. "What, did you expect me to listen to you whine and complain? I'm not one of your mates, Wash. Go find North or Maine if you need some coddling."

With that, Wyoming walks down the hall. Washington watches him go, a stunned silence lingering behind. After a moment, he shakes his head and smiles. "Never thought I'd appreciate how much of a dick he could be." 

Without any further interruptions, Washington is able to make his way to the storage bay. After closing the door, he sits down behind some crates full of ammo and supplies, laying his head back against the box. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. Breathe out. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5. After repeating this a few times, Washington feels less like he's in the middle of a train wreck that's soaring over the edge of the titanic, and more like he's having to deal with Caboose putting a fork in the microwave again. Stressed, but not out of control. This is an environment that he can handle, maybe even thrive in. Now that his mistake of almost laughing at South being berated by the director has passed, Washington is now able to focus more clearly. He's been taking this too casually, and it's time for him to man up and face this problem head on. That means gathering intel and getting his hands dirty, but not spilling any blood. Well, he already took a step towards that with his unprepared confrontation with CT. Could it even be called that? It ended with them having a mutual agreement to work together, and if anyone was doing any accusing, it was him to her. So was it more like an encounter? Wait, no, he can't let himself get distracted. Wash shakes his head as if to clear out the fog that seemed to be settling in, then looked around.... Maybe he could find something useful in these crates. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took me so long to post this, but I was struck by a sudden inspiration for another fic thanks to my friend Trashpanda5629. Be warned, her style of writing and genre are far different than mine. If you're into dark smut, go check out her first fanfic. If you're not, then I guess don't? Anyways, I'll be posting the start of a second story soon, and I'll continue to update this one. However, it might be a bit slow.


	11. Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington goes on the mission, and has to make an important decision.

After making a detour to retrieve his helmet, Washington had done his best to lay low by avoiding everyone until the mission. After which he could not stall anymore, so he grabbed his BR and walked to the hangar. Most of the others were already waiting, so he sat down beneath the wing and tried to ignore the looks that South kept giving him until York arrived. After their last team member showed up, 479er opened the door and they all loaded themselves into the pelican. Wash is the first to sit, North grabbing the seat to his right while South sat directly across from him. York, of course, waited until Carolina had sat down to choose the spot two seats away from her. Wash smiled softly: He always tried so hard to please the her. Who knows? Maybe York and Carolina could become a thing in the future. 

"Should he really be going with us?" South is staring at him, her arms crossed and her posture radiating that she was still somewhat mad at him for almost laughing. 

North looks at his sister. "I don't see why not."

Washington sighs. "I'm fine, South. I promise." 

She must have rolled her eyes, since he can see her helmet rotate around in exaggeration. "I don't need your stupid promise. You heard what the Counselor said, you're still on pain pills. So, why are you here?"

"And you heard what the Director said. He wasn't pulled off, so he's staying on the mission." Carolina shoots a stern look their way, then focuses back on making backup plans for the mission should anything go wrong. South tightens her arms around her chest, but says nothing as she slouches back into the seat. North sighs and shakes his head, relaxing a little more now that the fight is over, and York keeps looking like he wants to say something to Carolina but isn't sure if now would be the right time. Wash tightens his jaw, but forces his shoulders to drop so that he at least seems to be at ease. Can't have the excited "rookie" looking like he'd rather be anywhere but the mission. 

It's a long flight, but they eventually land. Carolina splits them up into two groups; Her, South, and York are the infiltrators, while North and Wash will be hanging back to provide cover fire from strategic locations. She normally would have assigned Washington to join them in securing what they came for, but he has feeling that despite telling South to quit complaining about him being a part of the mission, Carolina is also worried about his ability to fight being affected by meds that he isn't on. Hence why he's laying on a building with a sniper, doing a job that North could honestly handle just fine without his help. Still, this is better than nothing, so Washington isn't going to complain. 

He watches Carolina and the other two take out a few guards before entering the building, heading deeper into it and out of his line of sight. Wash bites back a comment about not being able to help them if he can't see, and focuses on just watching the perimeter for any changes that could jeopardize the mission. After several minutes of nothing pass by, Washington is considering if he should continue to sit silently or ask North a question. Both options have benefits and consequences. Wash will have something to do other than sit around and wait if he asks, and he'll learn the answer to his question, but he'll be risking getting noticed by an Insurrectionist... Then again, this seems exactly like something that the old Washington would do. 

"Fuck it." Wash switches on his private comms, making sure to exaggerate his whisper voice - regardless of the fact that he's on a roof with hardly a chance of being spotted - just to add that rookie effect. "Hey North? 

"What is it? Spot anything?" North sounds casual, comfortable even. 

"No... I'm just curious about something." Wash pauses, finding the right way to word it. "How are we supposed to help them from out here?" 

North chuckles softly. "Well, we pretty much can't unless if they just so happen to pass by a window in our line of sight. We're the backup for if they need help, and the cover fire to knock out enemies as they get from that building to a safe distance."

"Mm, all right." Wash shifts, using the scope to scan the area again. After passing by the door, he sees someone in a suit getting out of an expensive looking car. "Heads up. Rich dude at the main entrance."

"The guy in a tux? I spot him." North switches on the team comms. "You might want to hurry up in there, someone important just arrived."

Carolina speaks, her voice low. "Do you have an ID on them?" 

North sighs. "Nope, he's not facing my way. What about you, Wash? Can you see him?"

As a matter of fact, Wash knows exactly who the mystery man is. He's none other than the reason for Chorus still in a civil war. The man is none other than Malcolm Hargrove. 

Washington's finger tightens on the trigger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the abrupt end to this chapter, but I didn't want to keep you guys waiting. I will add the second half soon.


	12. Outcomes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington finalizes his decision, only to encounter another.

"Washington," Carolina draws his name out, sounding too much like the Director when he's scolding someone. "do you have eyes on his face?"

"Doesn't look familiar to me." Washington exhales slowly, releasing his grip. For the sake of keeping his alliance with CT, he wasn't going to expose Hargrove's identity if he could help it. Though it might save him some trouble... No. He could always kill him later. 

Carolina pauses, carefully thinking over this new information. "Don't engage yet, but keep an eye on him while he's outside."

"All right, boss." Wash adjusts his position to get more comfortable. 

It takes about 2 minutes before North informs Carolina that the "mystery man" went inside, and another 7 before South trips an alarm and blows their cover. Wash and North remain outside, so he's not sure what's going on, only that they seem to be holding their own. He sees South get slammed into a window, and hears her swear over the comms as the Insurrectionist pins her down. Wash aims the sniper, lining it up with the enemy visor, but he doesn't pull the trigger. He feels his hand shake slightly as he watches them, his thoughts racing a million miles per second. He could save her, but does he want to? After all, she betrayed him. More importantly, she killed North, left Theta behind, and planned to do the same to Delta. She will kill everyone in her way to buy herself more time. 

... Or will she? She isn't filled with jealousy and anger because of the Director yet, and she might never be. She hasn't killed her brother, nor abandoned the innocent Theta or the analytical Delta. Right now? She's just his teammate, one who's in danger, and yet he doesn't want to save her. Still, North would never forgive him... But he doesn't have to know. Wash could just say he didn't see her in time, or that his aim was off and that he missed.. No. Who knows what North would become without his evil twin. Wash certainly doesn't, and he's not about to risk having to find out. He pulls the trigger, and watches as the glass shatters and the Insurrectionist's head snaps backwards.

South shoves him off, moving out of his line of sight. "Thanks North."

"You're welcome, but it wasn't me." North might as well been the one who saved her, because without him, Wash certainly wouldn't have. 

Wash tunes them out, only barely listening to the conversation over the comms. He looks back down to where Hargrove was standing, only CT's boss isn't there anymore. "Damn it.."

"What?" Wash startles, almost dropping the sniper upon hearing York's voice. 

"Nothing! I ... I lost sight of the suit guy..." Wash shakes his head, then shoots another Insurrectionist. 

"North, do you have eyes on him?" Carolina isn't bothering with lowering her voice now. 

There's a pause while North searches. "No, I can't find him either." 

Carolina sighs. "Then cover us while we head to the rendezvous point. After that, make your way there." 

"All right, see you soon." North focuses on shooting again, as heard by the crack of a sniper and seen by the increasing number of dead soldiers. Washington joins him, purposefully missing a few of his shots. 

Even with South's fuck up, the mission is a success. They got what they came for, and it's stored on a little hard drive that Carolina handed over to the Director upon arrival. Wash couldn't help but be almost silent on the drive back, but he could control where his eyes went. In his case, anywhere but South. No one knew of his thoughts on the building, but that didn't make his palms any less clammy, nor did it help ease his thoughts. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, another chapter done! I hope you enjoyed, don't forget to comment!
> 
> Edit: I made another fic, also Washington focused, because I have an addiction. Curse you plot bunnies! Anyways, feel free to check it out!


	13. Time Passes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just some filler and explanation for what happens between the last chapter up to the next one. Basically exposition for a time jump.

Things aren't getting any easier. It's becoming harder and harder to lie to his friends, to not strangle South, to resist shooting the Director and Counselor and then taking a golf club to their corpses with extreme prejudice. To keep his emotions in check, Washington has taken to using a more violent fighting style on missions. He doesn't pull punches or miss most of his shots unless if he's in training, in which case he definitely holds back. The other Freelancers don't seem to be catching on, except for Carolina, who he is careful to never outshine or surpass lest he invoke her wrath. The last thing he needs is for her to be angry with him. As for CT, she seems to be hyper aware of his increasing ability to kick ass, and keeps a close eye on him. Washington doesn't tell her that he wasn't actually pretending to not be skilled, and that he actually used to not be as strong as the others, because that would be a pain in the ass to explain. He'll tell her one day, just not now. 

As for their deal that they made, Washington was able to accurately inform CT on what the AI's would be like, who they would be assigned to, and so on so forth, along with detailing Tex's personality a few days before she arrived. Each time that he informs her with this information, he claims that he got it by doing some digging. That answer is sufficient for now, but she's constantly on the verge of asking him about what's really happening. 

The rest of Project Freelancer, as previously mentioned, are somewhat easier to fool. Just joke around with his teammates, don't snap angrily at South, and keep all interactions with the Director and Counselor to a minimum. He doesn't bring up any personal details, as they might not have told him about them in this current timeline, and explaining how he knew that North was actually the trouble maker as a child would have been more difficult to cover up than he can handle at the moment. Washington has also taken to casually planting seeds of doubt over the Director's intentions by asking seemingly innocent questions during the lessons about their AI's, such as where they came from. Each one gets either no answer, or a vague one that explains nothing. He can only hope that it's enough to make the others curious as to what's really going on, and not enough to draw unwanted attention to himself. 

Not all of it his time here has been undercover espionage. It's been refreshing to meet Theta again, and listening to Delta's logical voice has been clarifying. York has been a source of much needed comedy relief that he usually got from the reds and blues, though in a much less chaotic nature. North, on the other hand, gives Washington more anxiety than he ever expected to receive from someone who used to be so calming. He knows that something is up with Wash, and drops hints that he's always there for the rookie, which makes Wash's stomach twist in a way that it hasn't done in a long time. North is trying to help, but Washington feels guilt every time he looks at him. Guilt for killing his sister, regret for not spending time to mourn, and the need to make things right. 

Which Washington will do. Make things right, that is. He just needs more time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I'll update soon.


	14. Espionage Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington talks to someone.

... And time was what he got. 

Hours upon hours of time to plan, time to listen, and now Washington is going to use that time to gather evidence. He's going to need something concrete for CT the next time they exchange information. He's the only one who's actually giving useful details, but she does confirm that yes, they are still allies. Having evidence that he gathers knowledge by digging around would help to dissuade and/or answer any questions such as "where did you find this?", "how did you know about that?", and "where's the files that this was stored in?". He really hates the latter question, mostly because he can only give the same answer repeatedly: I didn't grab it, but I'll get it later. Honestly, he should spend more time coming up with a better answer, but it works for now and that's what matters. 

Washington is sitting in the rec room, drinking coffee with an unholy amount of sweeteners in it, courtesy of Florida. He checks the clock, casually looking up at it while sipping at the sugar water with caffeinated properties. Only 2 more minutes, then he'll get up and go to the ship's archives, also known as the library. Between training, missions, and team bonding, no one really uses the time to read. That, and even if they did decide to sit down with a book, it would likely have been one downloaded onto their data pad. So yes, the library is a bit of an odd place to start, but Washington knows someone who has enough time to do all of those things and more, all while running the ship and being tortured on the side. He's going to go see the Alpha. 

Now, approaching this is going to be difficult, especially considering that Alpha is right in the middle stages of his fracturing process. Washington isn't looking forwards to talking to him, but this is what has to be done if his plans are going to work. That, and it's incredibly risky. If he gets Alpha in his pocket, then he's almost guaranteed to succeed. However, if Wash slips up or Alpha doesn't trust him, then the Director will be informed immediately... Still, the payoff will be worth it, and he would like a chance to save Church from his predetermined fate if he can't find a way back to the future. 

Washington can feel the palms of his hands getting clammy, which is only accentuated by the tight fitting gloves of his armor. He hesitates at the doorway, flexing his fingers before reluctantly presses the button. There's a slight whoosh of air, barely noticable to anyone who's been on this ship for as long as he has... Was. Washington shakes off the thought, putting on a brave face and walking into the library. Nevermind that his face is covered by the visor, the whole act of preparing himself is just another lie to trick his mind into believing he's prepared for this. 

Hey, anything to hold off doubt, right? 

Forcing himself not to hesitate, he enters the library. The room is relatively small, having only a few computers with just stories downloaded, and four bookshelves that are only barely stocked with books placed in the perfect position to make it seem full at first glance. Yet another lie of Project Freelancer, only one less covered up. Oh well, Washington didn't come here for the fine literature, though he wishes he could spend a little more time here. When was the last time he sat down with an old book and thumbed through the pages as he lost himself in the story? Not recently, that's for certain. Without thinking, Washington has already sat himself down behind one of the desks, his index finger pressing the power button for the monitor. He looks at the options presented on the screen, most boring biographies or manuals or recounts of the earlier days in the war... Maybe there's a reason he didn't spend much time here. 

Washington places his hand on the mouse, moving it around experimentally, then clicking on the search tab. He places his hands over the keyboard, typing in 5 letters. A-L-P-H-A, and then pressing enter. Of course, the results come back with titles like "Alpha Testing of the Battle Rifle" and "The Qualities of a Good Leader". Wash scoffs quietly. Maybe if the Director was more of a bookworm, then they wouldn't have had this problem in the first place. He clicked the search tab again, pressed backspace, then typed 4 words; "We need to talk". He sat back as the computer started loading books based off of his input, not bothering to read the titles this time. Now, all he's gotta do is wait, and hope a certain someone is watching. 

Washington looks around, taps his foot on the ground twice, then places his hand on the desk and starts to drum his fingers. The clicking of his glove across the wooden surface is creating a sound that's both annoying, and mildly tingle inducing, almost like when you're focusing really hard in class and start clicking the pen during a lecture-

"Okay, asshole! You can cut it out now." He looks to the side, spotting the hologram of Alpha standing besides him. 

"What? I got bored." Washington sits up, turning the swivel chair around so that he can look the AI in the eyes... Visor... Face. So that he can look him in the face. 

Alpha shakes his head, scoffing quietly. "You said we needed to talk? 

"Yeah," Wash nods. "It's important."

"So why talk to me? Can't you schedule an appointment with the Counselor or something?" 

"I don't want anything to do with that creep." Washington stands up. "And I doubt you do either."

Alpha flickers only slightly, but it's noticable enough to be caught by the human eye. "What are you talking about?"

He took the bait, now all Washington has to do is play dumb long enough to gain his trust. He doesn't want to lie to a version of his friend, but if that's what it comes down to, then so be it. "The AI's we're getting are fragments, right? At least that's what we're told in the Counselor's lessons. Considering you're the only full AI on this ship that I know of, I assume they're coming from you."

Alpha steps back, looking around the room nervously before his attention is returned to Washington. He shakes his head, his left hand flickering. "You're more perceptive than they give you credit for... All right, Wash. Let's chat."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long this took to make, but I'm even more sorry about what I'm going to say next. I'm going to have to take a break in writing, and this goes for all of my fics. Senior year hit me harder than I expected, and I wasn't able to focus on homework and writing. Add that to writers block, personal stuff, and secondary stress from my family freaking out about the coronavirus, I've been pretty lazy about updating. Once again, I'm sorry, and I'll try to get back into the swing of things soon. Hopefully, this long chapter will suffice for the break I took, and will continue taking.  
> Thanks for sticking around, ~TCT


	15. Trust Me

Washington breathes out a sigh of relief, letting his guard drop a little. If he wants Alpha to believe him, he needs to be more personable and as far away from the icy professionalism that the Director and Counselor uses without being casual. Easier said than done. Alpha is in a very vulnerable state, and getting him to believe that Wash on his side is going to require finesse. If only he was as good at pretending as CT could be... But maybe he could use that to his advantage. Alpha is used to being lied to, manipulated, but he doesn't get much of the truth. If Washington is honest with him, it could be the difference between gaining an ally or losing all that he's been working for. Washington looks back at the hologram before him, using the same tone of voice that he uses when putting Caboose back to bed after a nightmare. "I know what they've been doing to you. I know that all the AI's are fragments of your personality you had to get rid of to keep surviving, and I know that you're at your wits end. I would have come to you sooner, but I... I was scared of what they'd do to me if anyone found out."

Alpha stares at him, the edges of his hands and helmet flickering with uncertainty. There's a tense silence between them, but Washington doesn't want to break it. Alpha needs time to think, and Wash isn't going to push him towards a decision. After a moment, the AI speaks. "Why are you here? The Director could just as easily find out about this today as he could of last week, so what the fuck are you doing talking to me?" 

"I got desperate, and... I kinda just came up with this plan a couple hours ago." Wash rubs the back of his neck. 

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Alpha folds his arms over his chest, his energy bristling. "You wanna use me as a pawn too."

"No! That's not what I want at all!" Wash shakes his head, backtracking quickly. "I know what they're putting you through, and I want to get you out of it! Yes, you can help me which will in turn help you, but that's not what I'm here for." 

Alpha steps towards him "Why do you care? I'm a mother fucking computer program." 

_No, you're a mother fucking ghost._ Wash sighs. "You're so much more than that. Yes, you're made up of ones and zeroes, but you're constantly changing. That code is a personality, one that's sarcastic and quick witted, one that wouldn't mind standing around talking all day about stupid shit that no one really cares about, one that the Director shouldn't get to rip apart and abuse. That's what he's doing to you, Church. Using and abusing you for his own gain, and for what? To make the perfect shadow?" He sees Alp-Church flinch at the mention of Texas, looking away from him. Still, Wash presses on. "I'm going to get you out of this, all I ask is that you trust me... Can you do that? Trust me?" 

Church shifts his non existent weight, glancing around before looking back over. Washington's chest thumps slowly, but it feels like his heart is stuck in his throat. The saying goes not to put your eggs in one basket, but he doesn't have a choice. He can't leave Church to the Director, not after experiencing everything first hand. The loss, the helplessness, the grief... He can't let it continue. Church nods slowly, and Washington internally breathes a sigh of relief. "Okay... I trust you." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for anyone who might have been following this story. I'm not sure when I'll be posting the next chapter, so I'm not making any promises. I'm not going to go into detail, but some personal things happened and all my stories fell onto the back burner.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this, and comments are always welcome.


	16. A More Sinister Look

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We get to see things from the Counselor's point of view, and he notices more than enough.

The Director stands in the observation deck, watching the agents below him fight with a disappointed frown. At his side stands the Counselor, an unreadable expression on his face as he makes notes on his data pad. He watches South attack Washington first yet again for the fifth time in a row at the start of a match, her fist colliding with the younger agent's chin. To anyone else, it would seem like she has marked him as an easy target, and is bullying him while the others brawl. However, the Counselor's watchful eye caught onto what was happening three rounds ago. Washington is purposefully drawing him to her, getting South away from the other agents before confronting her. The real reason for this tactic is unknown, seeing as it can't be a technique to improve his chances because of how he constantly gets his ass kicked. The Counselor makes another note, _Agent Washington could be trying to prove something by fighting someone he will undoubtedly lose against, or perhaps they were in a fight and he wants to release some aggression_ _without consequences._ The Counselor lowers his data pad, looking back at the fight. It seems like such an obvious conclusion, given Washington's past tendencies for violence, but something isn't fitting.... He crosses out the previous entry, making a new one. _Agent_ _Washington is purposefully fighting agent South, but he holds back when it comes to physically attacking. Why?_

The Counselor returns his attention to the agents training below, his eyes focused on the one clad in grey and yellow armor. For the sixth time, Washington sprints ahead of the others, makes eye contact with South, then ducks underneath her punches and backs away behind a nearby obstacle for her to follow and subsequently kick his ass. Price's eyebrows furrow. Is he trying to make his rank on the leader board drop?... Actually, that might be it. Agent Washington sustained serious injuries on a difficult mission that went sideways, so he could be trying to lower his score in order to receive easier and less difficult missions. If that's the case, then the Counselor has been far too lenient in his job. Agent Washington has been the textbook definition of a wide eyed recruit since the very first day he joined Project Freelancer, from the desire to improve to the way he interacts with agents who have higher rankings or been around longer than him. This sudden change in ambition should not have gone unnoticed for such a long period of time. The moment the spar is over, Price tells the Director that he has something to look into and leaves. 

The files sit around him on the desk. Papers upon papers are spread about full of agents personal quirks, their high moments and their downfalls, and most importantly, their motives. Finding out what someone wants and just how much they want it is the key to keeping someone who thinks they're free under your control. Agent Carolina wants her fathers attention, so preventing her from receiving any praise or congratulations will cause her to try more and more desperately to catch his eye, leading to slip ups and failure that will just fuel her desire. Agent North wants his sister to be safe and happy, so distancing them will make him feel like he's losing her, thus creating the need to pull her back to him when he's really just making agent South feel like he doesn't trust her to take care of herself. His job is a complex game of what choices will determine what outcomes. Putting someone on a mission while holding back another agent who is more qualified creates envy in some people, and does nothing to others. Rewarding a certain agent while ignoring another's success makes their team suspicious of favoritism, ostracizing the original agent and making them stand out even more. It's a delicate system, which makes it all the more concerning that the Counselor didn't realize that agent Washington's side was changing without his or the Director's say so. The more Price looked into the oddity, the more evidence he found that a drastic change had come over Washington, altering his personality in ways that were completely unpredictable. The details were so minuscule that he had overlooked them, but now that he sees it all compiled together, he's surprised it wasn't noticed sooner. Agent Washington's decrease in efficiency and his failure to surpass or keep up with his peers during drills is him attempting to lower their expectations. He's avoiding Agent Carolina, the second highest ranked soldier on the leader board, to set himself apart from the more skilled agents and keep him in a comparatively lower class. Even the way he interacts with his closest friends, socializing more with CT than the others because of her lower ranking, points to him wanting his score to be penalized. It's all so frustratingly obvious that the Counselor is mad he almost let it slip past him. He quickly closes all of the files, returning them to their cabinet drawers before standing up to find the Director.

He has to put a stop to this before it gets out of hand. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a little carried away with this chapter, but I couldn't help it! The Counselor was such an interesting character to write for, and I couldn't stop once I got started. All the other people on the MOI just dismiss Wash's new development in personality as him going through a phase or just being shook after the failed mission, but Price sees right through it! Of course he could never guess the real reason behind Wash's motives, but he came close.   
> I enjoyed this chapter so much that I had to split it in two to keep it from getting too long! Until next time everyone, I'll catch ya later.


	17. The Solution to an Annoyance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Counselor talks to the Director about his theory on Washington’s behavior, and proposes a plan to stop it.

The Counselor enters the Director's office, data pad in hand. Leonard Church is standing with his back to him, his hands folded behind his waist as he stares out a large window and into the never ending abyss. He glances back, the expression he wears a mixture of annoyance tinged with something harsh, as if he expects to reprimand someone before the conversation has even begun. "I see you still don't understand how to know, Counselor." 

Ah, looks like the assumption was spot on. Price nods, closing the door behind him as he crosses the room. "I apologize sir, but I discovered something concerning about agent Washington." The Counselor comes to a stop at the window. "I reviewed the files, and have come to the conclusion that agent Washington wants his ranking on the leadership board to be lowered." 

"Are you meaning to tell me that you failed your job?" The Director narrows his eyes, a slight anger behind them. "Because keeping the soldiers in a competitive state of mind is what I hired you to do, so why on earth would he want to lower his score?" 

"I merely mean that due to unforeseeable events, agent Washington's motives changed." He pauses, and when the Director gives no indication of wanting to say anything, Price continues speaking. "He recently made it into the top 10, and was injured on a mission shortly after. It's possible that he developed minor trauma from the experience, and wishes to have a lower rank so that he will be sent on easier and less dangerous missions." 

He watches and the Director looks back out of the window, mulling the information over. "..... And what do you propose that I do to reverse this?"

The Counselor looks down at his data pad, opening a file. "I've already devised a plan to fix our problem-"

"Your problem, Counselor." The Director gives him a sideways glance. "Or am I wrong to assume that this fuck up was because of your negligence?"

"Sir, Agent Washington was surprisingly effective when it came to hiding his true motives. He has fooled even those closest to him on this ship into thinking that nothing is wrong, even agents North and Carolina have fallen for his deception. I was able to realize what was happening, and have planned out a strategy to fix it." The Counselor nods towards his data pad. "I suggest using agent Washington to replace South's position on tomorrow's mission. This will make agent South jealous because she feels like agent Washington is getting unfair treatment, which will in turn create a rift between their friendship, which further pushes her away from everyone else and makes her feel less confident and trusting in the team. As for agent Washington, he will take discomfort in being assigned to a difficult and dangerous mission on such short notice. Even if they aren't successful, taking part in an assignment of this caliber will boost agent Washington’s score, further preventing his goal of making it decrease so that he feels even less secure and unsafe, which could make him confide in the other agents for support. Without meaning to, he will have made agent South’s complaints about him being favored by you seem foolish to the others, further pushing her away from the group and isolating her. We should see results of this in missions anywhere from 3 days to 2 weeks after he returns from the assignment." 

The Director nods, looking back out of the window. A peculiar habit of his, to stare into space if it's currently visible when he's thinking. Price will have to explore this mannerism further, but at a later date. "I assume that chances of this failing are low?' 

The Counselor nods. "Yes sir, I've looked over the possible routes extensively. Chances are, we'll have a desirable outcome."

"Make sure that you don't make mistakes like this again in the future, Counselor. We don't have room for any more mistakes in Project Freelancer." Despite his harsh tone, the Director's expression has softened, so Price simply nods in agreement. "Alpha."

A light blue hologram appears, arms folded over its chest and head tilted back in annoyance. It seems to be a mirror image of a pose that Leonard would make if he was younger, perhaps before joining the UNSC and losing Allison. "What?" 

"I want you to make a change to the roster for tomorrow's mission." The Director looks at him. "Replace agent South with Washington."

The hologram stares at him for a moment, its voice reluctant when it does speak. "All right sir, I'll get right on that."

"Alpha, go ahead and inform the other agents on the team about the change, but make sure not to inform agent Washington of this." The Counselor adds a note to his data pad. _Purposeful withholding of information until the last second will cause unpreparedness, which will result in raised levels of stress and anxiety in agent Washington, adding to the likelihood that he will tell the others of his concerns._

"Why not?" The hologram's right arm flickers, prompting a separate note to be created as it speaks. "Seems kinda shortsighted not to tell him that he has an assignment." 

"You don't have to worry about agent Washington. One of the other agents will tell him about the rearrangement." The Counselor smiles softly, watching as the program disappears without a word to complete its task. 

Alpha frowns as he makes the necessary adjustments to the lineup for tomorrows mission. _It's fucking stupid. "Oh, don't worry, one of the other agents will tell him about the change." Yeah, South as she pummels him for stealing her spot. Fucking idiots...._ Alpha stops messing with the code, pausing a moment to think. What if South picking a fight or kicking Wash's ass is exactly what they want? It would make a whole lot more sense than them just conveniently forgetting how aggressive that bitch is. _So you wanna fuck Washington over, huh..? Yeah, screw that._ He sets to work on making a private message, then sends it off to the Freelancer's armor. If they wanna be sneaky pricks, two can play at that game. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I felt kinda bad near the end of writing this for the way Church was being treated, but plot's gotta plot. If anyone is wondering why the Counselor referred to him as "it" and "the hologram" rather than "he" and "Alpha" when thinking, that's because he views Church as just a copy of the Director. He understands that they are different, and using certain techniques will work better on one over the other, but he does not see him as a person. he only calls Church "Alpha" when talking to him so that he comes across as less cold and strict than the Director, which is a way for him to maintain a modicum of "the program"s trust.  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Leave a comment if you have any questions or criticism


	18. Not My Fault

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington has a change of schedule.

South is gonna be pissed. Washington sighs, closing out the message and rubbing the back of his neck as he continues making his way to the cafeteria. _Hey asshole, the Director replaced South's name with yours for tomorrow's mission and didn't want me to tell you. I don't know what he's planning, but don't fall for it._ He's read it over six times now, four times yesterday and twice today, and yet he keeps coming right back. Several things about the message are sticking with him, the fact that Alpha even sent him one to begin with being the most prominent feature. It shows that he meant what he said about trusting Washington, and was willing to put his neck on the line to prove it. Another thing that stood out was how unbelievably Church-like the writing was. From the lack of information to the bluntness about having no clue what the fuck is going on, even the name calling is a dead ringer for both his brief interaction with Church and his extended time with Epsilon. Of course he knows that they're both the same person, or at least made from him in Epsilon's case, but he didn't think that Alpha would be **_Church_** quite yet... With everything that was happening, what with the whole lying to his dead friends to save them and all, it's kind of nice to have a solid reminder of the reds and blues. 

He enters the cafeteria, immediately spotting the other Freelancers sitting at their usual table. They see him too, all sharing a nervous glance as Washington approaches. South gets up, her attitude lacking the wariness of the others as she angrily marches right for him. Wash slows down, the naive and unknowing rookie act already in full swing. "Hey Sou-"

"You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that?" South glares at him, her hands clenching her helmet tightly. "You just had to take my spot, huh? Did North put you up to this?"

"Take your-? South, I don't even know what you're talking about!" He steps back, giving her a wide berth of space.

"Of course you don't." She shakes her head, slamming her shoulder into his roughly as she passes. 

_Prick. You did that on purpose._ Wash watches her go for a moment, acting stunned, then looks back at the others. "What the hell did I do?" 

"You didn't hear?" CT looks at him, a slight accusatory tone in her voice. She thinks he planned this. "You were assigned to today's assignment last night, and she was kicked off." 

"You're kidding me." Wash slides into the vacant seat left by South, sitting between Maine and North. 

"Nope, she's pretty pissed about it. I think she was looking forwards to being on a mission without her other half" York sighs, shaking his head. "So much for a peaceful morning." 

Delta appears, hovering on the edge of the table. "Are you sure that you didn't receive a notification, Washington?"

"No, I'm pretty sure that the only messages I got yesterday was an alert reminding me I had a training session scheduled with Wyoming. You know, the one that was assigned two weeks ago." Wash leans his arms on the table. "Do you think it was a glitch?" 

York shakes his head. "The whole team got an update, so I don't think that's the case." 

Washington groans. "Great. So either my suits alert systems are messing up, or I just wasn't sent one. Either way, South still wants to kill me." 

"It is highly unlikely that the Director forgot to message you. I recommend getting your armor checked once you return." Delta pauses. "... But I do agree with the assessment of South's anger."

Wash groans, burying his face into the table and mumbling _I'm so screwed_. North chuckles, patting his shoulder with sympathy. "She's not gonna kill you, Wash. Maybe give you a concussion later in training, but you'll be fine." 

"Oh yeah, real reassuring asshole." Washington glances up at him. 

'Would you rather he told the truth and said that South was gonna strangle you in your sleep?" York smirks. 

"Oh come on, we all know that she's too direct for that." CT pushes around what's left in her fruit cup with a spoon. "She'll probably just choke him out next time they see each other." 

Washington rolls his eyes, a small smile concealed by his helmet that hides his uncertain thoughts. "You're all jerks, and I'm not inviting any of you to my funeral." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sorry about not responding to your comments, but I want you to know that I read each and every one of them! I just have no clue how to react sometimes. Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this update. Peace out everybody, I'll update soon.


	19. A Cover Story Would Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington and the other freelancers interact on a mission.

As far as mission locations go, this one isn't all that bad. The Insurrectionists converted a tropical island into a "top secret" area of operations. Dozens of outposts are located all around the jungle, with a large central base in the middle. That's exactly where the team of Wash, Maine, Carolina and York are headed, hiking there on foot to avoid being spotted and losing the element of surprise. The only part of the island that could be accesses by air that's not within viewing range of one of the many lookouts is to the east, which is the only side without a beach when it's high tide. The island has an upward slope on that side, which creates a tall rock wall that provides a pretty good defense if your attackers don't have climbing equipment. 479er parked the pelican on the beach right after the tide rolled back out, giving them a limited amount of time before she has to leave or be submerged. Unluckily for Wash, the only thing that could qualify as a tool used to scale mountains in the group is Carolina's grappling hook, but the Freelancers are good at improvising and manage to drag themselves up the cliff side after two laborious hours of climbing. Wash reaches the top, grabbing Maine's hand and letting the larger soldier hoist him up over the ledge. Nodding in thanks, Washington lets go and dusts off his gloves. 

Carolina looks around, her chest rising and falling ever so slightly from exertion. "We're on a time limit, lets move."

"You're sure we can't just have a 5 minute break?" York is leaning on a tree. "My arms are killing me." 

"That's why you have legs." Carolina looks at him with amusement, then walks into the trees. 

York groans, mumbling as he follows her. "That woman is gonna kill me." 

Maine chuckles, his voice a low rumble. "You complain and complain, and yet you still chase after her."

Washington starts laughing, hurrying to catch up with Carolina. "He has a point! You've been hitting on her since you two first met, why haven't you asked her out already?"

"Like you're one to talk." York must have seen his confusion, because he continues speaking as he steps over a fallen tree. "You and CT have been sneaking off with each other, and have been getting a lot of alone time." 

"Oh really now?" Carolina glances back, amusement clear in her voice. "I haven't heard anything of this."

"Because it's not happening!" As wrong as he is, Washington is tempted to go along with York's theory. It would be a good cover story to explain what he's been up to, but he doubts that CT would agree or accept that tactic. "We just talk! A lot!" 

"Sure! I believe you." York takes his hand, helping Washington over the large log. There's a smug tone in his voice that just nags at the back of Wash's mind, like an annoying little itch. 

"No you don't." Wash hops off of the fallen tree, getting a little closer to Maine as the group continues forward. "Hey, you don't think CT and I are a thing, do you?" 

Maine simply looks at him, but the silence speaks volumes. Washington huffs, stepping away from his friends in mock annoyance. As Carolina goes to say something, Sigma appears at her side. "Considering we don't want to be spotted, I suggest we walk in silence from here on out." 

York looks at him, pushing a bush's branch aside as he walks. It swings back and hits Maine's chest, but the larger Freelancer says nothing about it. "Why? The nearest outpost is a few miles from here, I doubt they'll have patrols this far out."

Wash frowns slightly, his experience leading an army on Chorus telling him otherwise. "This is the most vulnerable part of the island, it would make sense if they had at least _some_ patrols scouring the surrounding area." 

"I'm sure we'd have heard them by now. Ain't that right, D?" And just like that, York dismisses him... Maybe this is why the reds and blues are so loud. 

Delta appears, but Carolina speaks before he can get a word in. "Sigma is right, we're to proceed silently until we reach the base." 

"All right, boss.." The others all fall into a quiet walk, and Washington takes to scanning the treeline to divert his attention from.... Other things. It was just one thought, yet that simple reminder of his true team threatens to send all those uncertainties he's held back to come come crashing down. Wash shakes his head as if that'll clear it. He has to focus on the mission, there'll be time to ponder things later. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, sorry about about how late this chapter was, but I hit a rut when it came to motivating myself to sit down. I do plan to continue writing this fanfic, don't worry about that, but it might come out a little slower than the whole "one chapter a day" thing that I had been doing recently. Anyways, I hope you had a wonderful 4th of July, and that you enjoyed this chapter! Please leave a kudos if you did, and a comment if you have any questions.


	20. Are You Sure About This?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The freelancers case the outpost, making a plan.

The hike through the jungle is long and laborious. Other than the occasional patrol team, which seem to thin out after they get away from the eastern side of the island, it's fairly enjoyable. If it wasn't for the fact that everything here is reminiscent of Chorus, Washington would be appreciating the change of pace. Instead, he's having to push down thoughts of _his_ team, and how they're fairing without him. Did Grif and Caboose ever make it back to the others? What about the soldiers they were with? Has Carolina taken his place as trainer? Is she the senior officer on missions, or does that responsibility go to Tucker? Did Kimball change the patrol patterns to avoid more ambushes? Has any time passed since he was sent back? Even if he was able to find a way to his time, would there be anyone waiting? Does that universe even exist anymore? So many questions, and yet no answers. They all bounce around his mind, growing and growing as his thoughts spiral downwards into what-ifs, doubt making any reassurances he tries to give himself obsolete. He doesn't know what happened to them, and the only proof that they even existed in the first place is in his mind. His predictions that he gave CT are the only thing-

"Earth to Wash. Come in, Wash." York lightly nudges his side, drawing his attention back to the present. 

"I-I'm here, I'm... Yeah." Washington blinks a few times, not that they can see it, and looks at his current team.

He wasn't quite able to mask the melancholy tone in his voice, and the others were quick to pick up on it. York glances back at the others, and Maine tilts his helmet forwards in a portrayal of concern. Carolina is the only one who seems unworried, much to Washington's relief, gesturing to the mission. "Stay focused. We're here." 

The Insurrectionist base is at the bottom of the hill they're on, letting Washington take in each possible threat. He squats down behind some bushes, peering through the leaves to get a good look. The base is surrounded by a large (possibly) concrete wall, nearly 20 feet tall and at least 2 feet thick. On top of it are several armed soldiers, probably serving as lookouts and watching for any source of danger. The only obvious entrance is a sturdy looking gate, which is closed. If they had more time, Washington would suggest waiting until a supply truck came by and hitching a ride on the bottom or back of it, but they only have 4 more hours tops, and at least 2 of them have to be saved for making their way back to 479er. Beyond the wall is several rows of vehicles, ranging from warthogs to mongooses. Mongeese? Does it even matter at this point? Probably not. Washington turns his attention to the buildings inside of the base, the tallest of which sits in the center and is only 2 stories high. That's probably where their objective is, but to get to it would require some incredible stealth or one hell of a distraction. 

Carolina addresses the team. "Here's the plan: Seeing as the only current way to get into the compound is through that gate, we'll have to draw their attention away from it. Wash and Maine, you two will come with me and make a direct attempt to infiltrate the base from the south side. York, you'll use this diversion to sneak into the base and begin searching for the target. Any questions?"

Plenty of them swirl through Washington's mind, but he carefully picks which one to use. "Isn't that a bit risky? I think we could all get in and get out unnoticed and quietly if-"

"We don't have time for that, Wash." Carolina's tone is stern, but he knows she's wrong. They have nearly 2 hours at their disposal, and yet she's wanting to rush in there guns blazing. Washington raises an eyebrow, looking at the others, but neither Maine or York try to disagree. 

Instead, York leans in a little closer to Wash once Carolina starts making her way down the hill. "I know the plan's a little questionable, but just go with it. She's in charge for a reason, right?" 

_Because the Director knows Texas is more of a lone wolf than a leader._ Washington sighs, letting his shoulders drop as a hint of uncertainty goes into his voice "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Of course I am." He can hear York's grin, yet his casual demeanor isn't quite as relaxed as it should be. He knows Carolina isn't doing this the way they should. 

Despite this, Maine and Washington follow after her, sticking to the bushes and staying low to avoid being spotted. They make their way to the southern side of the wall, and once close enough to it, they quickly press their backs up against the concrete. The Insurrectionists above them don't bother to look down, their attention directed towards the jungle's treeline. That simple mistake was the reason why so many outposts on Chorus fell to mercenaries, and it'll be the reason why this one goes down today. The three of them spread out along the base of the wall, giving themselves a couple yards of space from one another. Carolina pulls out a grenade, and the others follow suit, watching her pull the pin and wait several seconds before stepping out and throwing it in an arc over the look outs heads. The unsuspecting Insurrectionists don't have time to react before the grenade explodes midair, knocking them back. Maine throws his own grenade as Carolina shoots her grappling hook at the wall, getting it stuck on the ledge and beginning to climb it. Washington hears a siren go off, sees Carolina reach the top of her rope as Maine's grenade explodes on the other side, seeing Maine charge at the wall and leap a few feet into the air before grabbing the grappling hook to pull himself up. Washington's hand tightens around the grenade, his pointer finger finding the loop. He waits till Maine is at least two thirds of the way up before pulling the pin and throwing it over. Gunshots ring out on the other side, followed by an explosion, and he rushes towards the now untouched rope. He starts pulling himself up, his arms still aching from having to climb up the edge of the cliff earlier, but he doesn't let that slow him down. He reaches the top of the wall, his eyes darting around the area in front of him, and then he leaps over the edge. 

Washington's feet hit the ground and he rolls, lessening the impact but still wincing at his shins protest, and he sprints towards the row of vehicles for cover. He sees Maine engaged in a 1 on 1 fight with a larger Insurrectionist, and sees Carolina making her way around the base as she openly fires at the soldiers. Washington gun feels heavy in his hands as he wonders how many of them know CT, but he quickly pushes the thought back down before anything can become of it. He leans out around cover, shooting the Insurrectionist trying to flank him.

This is going to be one hell of a fight. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Guess who has inspiration? I'm sorry about how long it took for this chapter to come out, and there's no excuse for me putting it off for all this time, but I'm back.  
>  Now that we got all of that stuff outta the way, holy shit! I mean, what the fuck?! How is there over 2000 hits on this?! Okay, in all seriousness, I never expected for this thing to get nearly this much attention. I mean, I started this as an outlet for my imagination. I would write this stuff on the bus ride home, and during a TA class when I had nothing that needed to be graded. Just seeing how many people have read it kinda overwhelmed me. Do Over was just a way for me to pass the time, and it's already been elevated to something so, so much higher than that. What that is, I'm not sure, but it's a good thing!  
> Long story short, I am amazed and in awe at how you guys are reacting to this. Thank you for the kudos, the comments, and for just reading it in general. I'll continue updating soon.


	21. Outgunned, Out Manned, Outnumbered Out Planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fight continues.

Washington fights to keep his gun from recoiling. The steady stream of bullets that he, Carolina, and Maine are firing cut through the Insurrectionists, but more and more of them take their place. They had been informed that there would only be about 5,000 soldiers on the island due to them only recently starting the process of converting it into a stronghold, meaning that there'd be only a couple hundred at the main base. How wrong that was. They're quickly starting to get overwhelmed as more and more soldiers join the fray, and Washington has to duck back behind the car to reload his rifle. He speaks into the comms. "York, please tell me you're almost done in there."

"Yeah, uh.." He hears Delta say something to York, but can't quite make it out. "Give me 10 more minutes."

Washington's voice cracks, he's going to pretend it was intentional. "10 more-?! York, we don't have the time for 10 more minutes out here!" 

"Just hurry up, there's more Insurrectionists posted here than we had expected." Carolina's voice is unbelievably calm given their circumstances, yet there's a hint of exerted stress to it. 

"Copy that, I'll be done before you know it." York gets back to focusing on his task. 

Wash looks across the base, his eyes going to Maine. His teammate is fending off 3 different soldiers at once. The large soldier slams the blade of his brute shot into an enemy's chest. "How're you holding up over there?" 

Maine catches the fist of an Insurrectionist, punching them hard enough to knock that person to the ground before he casts a quick glance in Wash's direction. "Behind you." 

Instincts take over and Washington ducks, a metallic fist flying over where his head was. He quickly kicks back, his foot connecting with the leg of whoever is behind him. They stumble to the side, and he turns to face them. An Insurrectionist clad in red and grey armor stands before him, their right arm an augmented silver. He pulls out his gun to fire, but their fist swings and connects with his arm, causing him to let go and knocking his gun to the side as the shot flies off into the distance. He drops down as they punch at him again, pulling the knife out of it's magnetic holster on his hip. He slashes out with it, but they pull back before the blade can connect with their stomach. He pursues them, lunging forwards. They block, sparks flying as the knife clashes with their prosthetic arm. They raise their left arm as he tries to stab him again, their forearm connecting with his wrist. He drops the knife, catching it in his other hand before plunging it into the unprotected space beneath their helmet. He pulls it out, ducking back behind cover as bullets fly through the air above him. His rifle is still laying on the ground just a few feet away. If he can get to it, then he can better defend himself. Washington lunges forward, his hands closing in around the rifle's frame as bullets get shot at him. He lets out a hiss of pain as one grazes the back of his thigh, then dives behind cover. 

Carolina's voice plays over the comms. "Washington, how bad is it?" 

"I'm fine, barely even hit me." Wash leans out from behind the mongoose he's pressed up against, shooting at whatever Insurrectionists are unlucky enough to be in his line of fire. 

Carolina continues her side of the fight. "How's the lock coming along, York?"

"I just got in, I don't see the..." There's a moment of silence on the other end of the radio. 

"York!" Carolina punches a soldier in the chest, knocking him back as she raises her gun. His chest explodes in a burst of red as bullets get embedded into his flesh. 

There's muffled rusting, followed by York's voice. "I found it, start getting ready to fall back." 

Washington nods, a sense of relief flowing through him. "Copy that." 

"Negative." Carolina attacks another Insurrectionist. "We're going to finish what we started." 

Washington goes to say something, but York beats him to it. "Carolina, there's over 5,000 people on this island, and only 4 of us. We're already struggling with one base, and their backup is going to be here any minute. We can't afford to stay here much longer, you said so yourself."

Maine gives a grunt of agreement, his fist connecting with the helmet of one very unfortunate soldier. Carolina's fists clench, and Washington can hear the hardly restrained aggression in her voice. " _Fine,_ everyone make your way into the jungle. 479er, we're going to need a swift getaway." 

"Understood, I'm on my way over." 

Once York emerges from the building, the four of them rush out of the now opening gate and sprint towards the trees. Bullets whiz past, but none seem to find their target. He hears Delta's analytical voice cut through the noise. "At this pace, there's a 13 minute ETA until the team reaches the pelican."

"Thanks D," York turns, shooting backwards as he sprints. "But how long until we have the entire island raining down on us?"

"The Insurrectionist base sent out a distress signal the moment the first grenade exploded." Delta's voice becomes puzzled. "I'm surprised that they aren't already here." 

"That's because most of them are on me." 479er huffs, the sounds of engines being put to the test coming through her radio. "I have at least 8 hornets on my ass, and 2 falcons." 

"Looks like they want to ground us here. I'm going to run ahead and see what I can do to help, try to keep up." And with that, Carolina has Sigma activate her speed unit, taking off into the jungle and quickly vanishing from sight. 

"W-Wait!" Washington momentarily puts on a burst of speed, but he slows back down once he realizes there's no possibility of keeping up with her. "Son of a bitch." 

Maine lets out a growl like noise as he continues running, tearing through the branches and bushes in his path. They're leaving a trail for the Insurrectionists to follow, but Washington can worry about that later. Right now, all that matters is making it to the pelican. He just hopes they reach it in time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! Writing fight scenes is so much easier when you're listening to music. I'm sorry for the abrupt ending to this one, but it was getting a little long and I decided to split it into two chapters. The second part of the battle should be out soon, but I hope you all enjoyed what you got so far. Leave a comment if you have any questions or things to say, and a kudos if you enjoyed.  
> On a side note, did anyone notice the title? Okay bye!


	22. Free Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The agents try to escape from the island, and Washington's luck continues to spiral downwards.

Washington leaps over a rock, grey puffs of dust spraying into the air as the bullets strike the area behind him. He keeps running, York and Maine a few feet ahead. The cut on the back of his thigh from a bullet grazing him back at the main outpost is slowing him down, but not enough for the Insurrectionists to catch up. Carolina is still out of sight, but he can hear the sound of 479er's pelican approaching, along with a cacophony of other flying engines. A bullet strikes Maine's shoulder, ricocheting off of the shoulder plating and leaving a dent behind. The larger agent lets out a growl of frustration, turning back and shooting a tree branch with the brute shot. It cracks, falling into the path of the Insurrectionists and buying them a little bit of much needed time. Washington ignores his leg protesting, continuing to sprint. The pelican speeds overhead, having to turn back around to get to them. The branches are whipped about in the wind as it hovers above them long enough for Carolina to throw down an emergency rope. It hits the ground by York, who grabs it and immediately starts shimmying up. Maine has barely even grasped it before 479er moves the pelican forward, the other ships starting to catch up with them. Wash resumes running, quickly having to pick up the pace as he waits for his teammates to move up far enough for him to hop on. Finally, he grabs the rope and starts pulling himself upwards as the ship is piloted higher. He's soon soaring above the treetops, getting a good view of just how fucked they are. As 479er previously mentioned, there's a multitude of Insurrectionist ships headed their way. She managed to get some space between her and them, but having to slow down to pick up Washington and the others allowed the enemy to make up some of the distance. He continues to pull himself up the rope, his arms burning from all of today's exertion but he ignores it. Carolina helps York and Maine up, grabbing their hands and pulling them into the pelican once they're in reach. Washington lets go of the rope with one hand, his arm extending towards hers for help. 

The bullet hits him before the sound does, a sniper's round piercing right through the left side of his back and out through his stomach. Washington's muscles loosen in shock, and he lets go of the rope. He can see Carolina lunge toward him as the world tilts sideways, her hand touching his wrists, but her fingers don't close around him. Instead he plummets down, the blood leaving a trail in the air behind him. He hears York's voice call out to him, desperately shouting something, but the words don't quite register as he watches the pelican get further and further away. He sees the treetops surge past him, feels the thin twigs snapping beneath his weight. He makes it quite a ways down before the back of his shoulders and neck slam into a thick branch, and the world spins as the voices over his comms all burst into wordless static. He flails his arms about, trying to grab onto something to slow or stop his descent as the world spirals out of control around him. He's left spinning in his free fall, seeing the ground getting closer and closer each time his body rotates. 

On the final turn, Washington crashes into the ground hands first. He lets out a yelp of pain as his right wrist snaps, the bone breaking under his weight. The rest of the body crumples to the jungle, landing in a painful heap that knocks the wind out of him. He doesn't have time to think, the adrenaline surging through his veins giving him enough strength to breathe in and push himself onto his hands and knees. He cries out in pain as he puts pressure on his snapped wrist, then grits his teeth and forces himself to be quiet. The static playing in his ear grows quiet as the pelican flies further into the distance, being flanked by a small armada of ships. 

Washington pulls himself to his feet, his legs moving without his command to as he sprints after his best chance off of here. "Wait! Turn around, I'm still alive!" 

Static is the only reply, and Washington just about throws his helmet off in anger as he comes to a stop. He sucks in more air, having lost sight of his team as the branches obscured them from sight, but he can hear the engines going further and further into the distance. If they stopped and turned around now, they'd be shot out of the air. Washington's mind grapples with the harsh reality of his situation.

They aren't coming back for him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well... That's gotta hurt.  
> Leave a kudos if you enjoyed, a comment if you have any questions (or grievances with the sudden change in Washington's luck), and I'll catch you next time!


	23. We Can't Just Leave Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> York isn't okay with this.

York doesn't see the blood spray out of Washington's side as a bullet tears through him, but he can hear the crack of a sniper. He stops mid sentence, turning away from 479er. Washington falls as he lets go of the rope, unable to hold on any longer. York lunges forwards even though he knows that he won't make it in time, because he can't just let his friend fall. Carolina makes a move to grab him, but Washington's hand seems to slip through her fingers as he plummets down. York's eyes widen and he runs to the edge of the pelican, the only thing keeping him from diving off is Maine grabbing his arm. He pulls, trying to yank himself free. "Let go! I can still get to him!"

"What's going on back there?" 479er glances out of the cockpit, her helmet tilting slightly. "Wait, why's there only three of you? Where's Wash?" 

"Are you able to turn around another time and pick him up?" Carolina looks back at her, her voice shaky. Her left hand, the only she tried to grab him with, is squeezed into a fist. 

479er shakes her head, returning her focus to what's in front of her. "Not with those assholes right behind me. Maybe I could if Washington was up high and jumped ou-"

"Then get us out of here." Carolina hits the button on the side wall, causing the pelican door to start closing. York's jaw drops and he stops struggling to get free. She couldn't be serious. Washington was their teammate, their friend, their _rookie_. He wouldn't last 10 minutes alone out there. 

Maine lets go of his arm, stepping closer to Carolina. His voice is defiant and full of anger. "What are you doing?" 

She faces him, her body shifting ever so slightly as if she's expecting this to end in a fight. "You heard Niner, we can't go back for him." 

"We can't leave him behind either." Maine's voice is closer to a growl than it is to a human's. 

Carolina steps forwards, her second hand clenching into a fist. "We're completing the mission, Maine. That's an order."

York can't think. She's not actually going to abandon Washington, that just... That isn't her. He walks towards the door, his hand reaching out to press the button to open it again. Her hand shoots out, grabbing his wrist. They stare at each other for a moment, her helmets shape making it look like she's glaring at him, daring him to try and defy her. He tries to search for some sort of sign that she's not really going to go through with this, but he can't find one. She's not shaking, her voice was cold and even, her head doesn't even tilt towards the door. Everything about her screams certainty. Carolina holds onto him a moment longer before releasing his wrist. She leans against the wall by the button as if to guard it, her arms folding over her chest as she watches them. Maine stands his ground, undoubtedly glaring at her angrily. York looks back and forth between the two of them, then takes two steps back and sits down on the floor. Never mind the seats, they're unimportant right now. He slowly reaches up, removing his helmet. The humid air washes over his face, a stark contrast to the cool temperature of his air conditioned suit. He looks back to Carolina, who's still quietly staring at Maine, and waits. Nothing happens. She doesn't back down, and neither does he. They glare at each other, one with disgust and the other with... York can't be sure what Carolina is feeling, but whatever it is it's something close to contempt. He doesn't understand it. They should have turned back, mission be damned. Yes, they could have been shot down, but when has that ever stopped them before? Washington's far more important than whatever was on that file that they came for. Surely Carolina isn't going to leave him behind, right? Better question, why is Maine letting her do this? Why aren't either of them pushing her out of the way and telling 479er to turn around? York goes to get up, but stops as she turns her glare to him. They hold each other's gaze again, and he slowly settles back down to the ground. 

Something is very, very wrong with Carolina. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I'm sorry that this chapter is so short, but I hope you all enjoyed it!


	24. I Left Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carolina has some time reflect on her actions, and she doesn't like it.

"Your choices were questionable, Carolina."

She punches the holographic target, sweat dripping down her body from how long she's been going at it. Her arms still ache from climbing the mountain, but she doesn't care. She needs something to distract herself from the mission, anything to-

"Yet you somehow succeeded."

She kicks, her leg swiping through several targets and turning them red. She almost loses balance, but Sigma tweaks her position just enough to make her steady. 

"Of course, it did come at the cost of your teammate."

She clenches her teeth, her fists almost blurring as she swings them at the holographic targets. A robotic yet feminine voice rings out through the room. "Round complete" 

"Run it again, F.I.L.S.S" Carolina gets into position, raising her fists as the targets change back to green and start whirring around her. She spares a second to glance up at the viewing room's window, finding it empty. York, who is usually up there watching her train hours past everyone else has gone to sleep, is missing from the scene. He hadn't said a word to her since they left the planet, quietly sitting on the ground until the pelican landed back on the MOI and brushing past the agents awaiting in the hanger. She wanted to go after him, but there wasn't any time. The Director had called her into his office, where both he and the Counselor were waiting. She was certain that she was going to be benched or, at the very least, demoted. Instead, she was congratulated and scolded at once. The Director didn't sound any different, yet if she really tried, she could pretend that he was proud she put the mission first. It was what she wanted, yet it felt empty. He noticed her, yet it took almost failing a mission and purposefully endangering her teammates to get it.

"Your tactics were lacking, and yet you didn't question them when the other agents hesitated to follow your leadership. Why is that?"

She inhales sharply, her teeth grinding as she stares up at the empty space where York should be. Why didn't he stop her? Why was he so complacent? Why didn't he come talk to her?... She should go find him, maybe they can sort this out. She's already planning a rescue mission for Washington, so he'll forgive-

"Carolina," Sigma's voice tears her away from her thoughts, his even tone grounding her back into reality. "The simulation has started."

Her fist strikes out, hitting one of the many spinning targets. York can wait. Right now, she's training. She attacks the targets, getting two rounds further before she can't hold off her thoughts anymore. If she can move this fast after several hours of rigorous physical activity, then why wasn't she able to grab Washington? He had been _right there,_ and she let him slip right through her hands. 

"You're slowing down." Carolina can feel Sigma nudging her mind away from those thoughts, and she begrudgingly lets him. He's right after all, she is going slower... But still not as slow as she felt back on the pelican. Washington was less than 2 feet away from her, she had plenty of time to react, and yet he still fell. Was he even alive? Sigma cuts in. "It's best not to think about that. For now, you should focus on making yourself better."

Carolina doesn't nod, her body too busy with her training. Green turns to red, the targets all stopping. She tells F.I.L.S.S to run it again, and watches as they begin spinning around her. The green is starting to blur together with the red, but still she attacks, because what else is she supposed to do? She might have got her teammate killed because of her inability to put them before her selfish needs. She needs to be better, quicker, maybe next time she can reach them in time... Only... She did reach him in time. Her hand touched Washington's wrist, and she could have grabbed him. What stopped her? He was right there, he was-

"You're slowing down again." She feels Sigma push her attention towards training, and this time she pushes back. Disapproval radiates off of him, but she doesn't give a shit. 

"Why didn't I catch Washington?" She swipes her leg through the targets, leaving a blurred line of red behind. Sigma is quiet for a moment, then she feels him start nudging her back towards the remaining green holograms before her. She clenches her fists, steeling herself. "Why didn't I grab him, Sigma?"

"You shouldn't dwell on it, there's more important things to concern yourself with." Her anger grows. He keeps changing the subject, refusing to give her an answer. 

"Tell me why, Sigma. Now." Carolina stops, the world tilting around her, or does it just feel that way? The targets continue to spin around her, leaving streaks of red and green in her vision. Her anger starts to grow as he remains silent. "Washington was within my reach, I felt his hand in mine! Why didn't I catch him?!..... Sigma-!"

"You weren't fast enough." Sigma appears besides her, his orange flame contrasting against the other holograms. 

Carolina looks at her left hand. "That's... No, he was right th-"

"There is no other explanation for it, Carolina." Sigma walks around to the front of her, his hands clasped behind her. "Your hand touched his, yes, but you weren't quick enough to grab him." 

Carolina looks at him, wanting to argue but not being able to. Words of defense don't come to her, so she closes her mouth. She knows she's the best soldier in all of Project Freelancer, Texas be damned, yet she wasn't able to save Washington. Of course it'd have to be her own fault, wouldn't it? Who else is there to blame when you're supposed to be #1? No one but yourself. She had wanted (no, hoped) that there was something she could pin this onto, that it wasn't her fault, but.. There's no other answer for it. She chose to recklessly infiltrate the Insurrectionist base despite Wash telling her that it was too risky, she chose to hold out on retreating until her team had insisted that they left, she chose to leave her team behind to catch up with 479er's pelican on her own, and she chose to abandon Washington. She went in guns blazing because taking out a whole island would have given her the boost she needed to surpass Texas on the leader board, but she couldn’t even save her own friend. 

Sigma listens to her thoughts, skimming over them like an observer. When he finally speaks, she listens. "You might not have been quick enough to save agent Washington, but you could be. All you have to do is accept my help." 

She doesn't hesitate, the words pouring out before she can think about what she's actually agreeing to. 

"Do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that happened.... I have a feeling that there's going to be a lot of angry/worried readers after this.  
> I hope you enjoyed anyways! Kudos and comments are always welcome, thank you for reading.


	25. On The Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington does the best he can with his current situation.

Washington doesn't have much time to watch his team be chased further and further away before he hears the sounds of mongooses and soldiers on foot rushing towards him. He moves to grab his helmet, finding that it rolled a few away after he threw it off angrily, but just the simple action of bending down to grab it causes pain to shoot through the left side of his back and stomach. He inhales sharply, biting back a cry of pain. The Insurrectionists are getting closer, and any noise would give away his position. Washington scoops up his helmet with his left hand, then quickly starts to limp away from where he saw the pelican heading. As much as he would like to run after his team, whichever way they head will swarming with people who would want to kill him. He presses his right hand to his bleeding stomach, ignoring the spark of pain from his broken wrist, and trudges onward. The sounds of soldiers searching for him start fading into the distance as they search for his body. It won't be long before they see the trail of broken branches he left behind, and when they find out that it's not just a body that they're recovering they'll send out wave after wave of people to track him down. He needs to make himself scarce by them, or else he'll never see the reds and blues again, or the freelancers, or anyone who matters to him for that matter. All he would see is a bullet, or a knife, or maybe he wouldn't even see it coming. Maybe it'd be like when South shot him, unexpected and sudden... Or like how his team just left him. 

Washington's hand clenches around the rim of his helmet tighter. He had expected this from South, from Wyoming, but from York? From Maine? Especially not from Carolina, but then again, it wasn't really her choice was it? He curses beneath his breath, his anger numbing the pain slightly. He knew that Sigma wasn't to be trusted, but he put too much faith into Carolina being able to defend herself. He had thought that she was too strong, too invincible, too "her" to fail. And yet, that's what she was doing. Her hand had touched his, but she didn't catch him. Wash knew for a fact that, without a doubt, she should have been able to grab him right out of the air. Sigma must have done something to slow her down, be it slowing her down mentally or using her armor to restrict her movement. She probably has no idea what happened, and is blaming herself. That's what she does. If something's wrong, it's her fault. She can't accept that there are things out of her control because that's what she was taught. In Carolina's eyes, everything is her fault. Her father didn't love her because she wasn't good enough, so she worked harder. If her team failed a mission, it was because of her poor leadership. Washington slipped out of grasp because she wasn't good enough, and now she's vulnerable... Sigma's going to use that. Even if Washington can make it back, it might be too late to save her. Who knows how deeply that flaming son of a bitch has dug his tendrils into her mind? She could be seconds away from going full blown Meta, and if that happens.... No, he can't let that happen. This is Carolina he's talking about, not Maine. She can talk, she can get help. If Sigma tries anything while Wash is gone, Carolina will rip him out of her head herself. As for when he gets off this island, Washington's going to... He'll... 

Washington stumbles, dropping his helmet and using his free hand to catch himself on a tree. He leans his head against it, his cheek pressed against the bark as he shakily breathes in the humid air. He was so pissed off that he forgot he was bleeding out. He glances down, moving his hand away from the wound to get a better view of it. He quickly presses it back, sliding down the tree and sitting on the ground. He doesn't know what organs were shredded when he was shot, he doesn't know the full extent of the damage, but he has to stop the bleeding somehow. He can't cauterize it for several reasons, the possibility of smoke drawing too much attention being one of them, but there are other ways to slow the flow of blood. He pulls the glove off of his right hand, wincing as the movement tugs on his wrist. He'll deal with that later. For now, he wads the glove up and puts the end into his mouth. He grabs a fistful of leaves from the nearest bush, taking a moment to brace himself before he starts to stuff them into the wound. He cries out as white hot pain shoots through him, his teeth grinding on the glove, but he keeps going. When the front of the hole is blocked off, he leans forward slightly and gets to work on the back. Tears prick the corners of his eyes, but none fall. Finally he finishes, exhaling and resting against the tree. That's one wound taken care of, but he still has to-

"Where is that fucker?" Washington's eyes widen, and he quickly grabs his helmet. His muffled groans of pain must have been louder than he though, because the Insurrectionists are approaching fast. He tries to get up, but decides against it. With the state he's in, he'd just fall over again. Instead, Washington drags himself into some nearby bushes, kicking the ground behind him to bury the thinning trail of blood in dirt. He just manages to get settled in when he sees two soldiers walk into view. One of them points at the base of the tree to the fresh red patch he left behind, and the other looks around. He's so fucked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Washington's in a bit of a pickle, ain't he? I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I'll be updating soon, but how about you guys check something else out while you wait? I found this fanfic, and I think you might enjoy it. It's a WIP, and even though there's only one chapter so far, I think it has a good start and a lot of potential.  
> Here's the summary: Agent Washington undergoes AI implant surgery to obtain Epsilon. Project Freelancer prospers. Agent Washington does not.  
> Here's the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25595494/chapters/62121232  
> I hope you guys have fun!


	26. It Isn't Over Yet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington might be badly injured, but when has that ever stopped him before?

Washington holds his breath as they inspect the blood at the base of the tree, not daring to move. The one who found it, a somewhat taller than average woman with a sturdy build squats down to get a closer look. She touches the red liquid with the tips of her fingers, and he wants to laugh at the absurdity of her doing that. It's clear that these two haven't tracked a day in their life, yet here they are, just yards away from him. "He was here all right."

"Thanks, captain obvious." The other Insurrectionist, a man of average build, glances around while he nervously fiddles with the sniper he's carrying. Washington's good hand finds a spot over the leaf stuffed wound, his jaw clenching. Whoever this soldier is, they could be the one who shot him. Based on his choice of weapons, and the way he keeps fidgeting, it's safe to assume that he's used to distanced fighting rather than hand to hand combat. Wash can use that. 

She looks up at him with a glare. "Well I don't see you contributing anything, asshole." 

"What's there to do?" He folds his arms over his chest. 

"I don't know, something useful?" She looks down at the blood, then stands up. "Better yet, you could watch my back while I call this in."

"Isn't that the same as being useful?" The sniper turns to look for any threats, but he's far too late. Washington had lunged out of the bushes, his outstretched hands grabbing the hilt of the sniper rifle and knocking it to the side. The soldier fires off a shot as it turns, the bullet going right through the back of his teammates' helmet. She dies instantly, her body crumpling to the ground. Washington lets go with his left hand, using it to grab the man's throat and cut off any calls for help. Not that it matters much now, what with all the noise they just made, but it's a force of habit. He shoves, making the Insurrectionist trip over the woman's corpse. Thankfully, Washington's bet about him not being accustomed to close quarter combat was spot on, because the soldier drops his fucking sniper rifle and flails his arms in an attempt to regain his balance. Wash is quicker, catching the rifle out of the air and pulling the trigger. His wrist is suddenly on fire with pain again from preventing the kickback, but it's worth it to see the Insurrectionist go limp and collapse next to his friend's.

"Mother fucker!" Well, it was for a moment, but the adrenaline shortly wears off after he's no longer in immediate danger, and with it comes pain. Washington puts the sniper on his back, searching their bodies as quickly as he can with one hand. He finds two knives and a magnum with a couple clips of ammo, but that's all he has time to grab before he hears the sound of other people rushing towards him. He heads for the bushes, snatching up his helmet before breaking into a sprint yet again. His injuries scream in protest, each step hurting far more than the last, but he bites back his own shouting and settles for laborious breathing. Every movement, each jump, all the turns, even his breathing feels like he's tearing something. Still, stopping now would be a death sentence, and he can't let that happen. Despite his constant movement, the Insurrectionists are hot on his heels once again. Bullets fly past, many hitting the ground or trees beside him. He can handle two unprepared soldiers without a problem, but any more than that in his current state is pushing it. How many are even behind him? Washington spares a glance back, pulling out the magnum and firing. There's seven - make that six - people behind him, all armed and uninjured. 

"Keep him busy!" One of the soldiers branches off away from the others, heading to the west.

Washington stops just long enough to line up a shot, and pulls the trigger. He resumes running before they hit the ground, firing back at the rest of them. He can probably kill all of them without getting injured _too_ badly, but reinforcements would show up by then. As confident as he is, he's not stupid or narcissistic enough to believe that he can take on a whole army. Leave that level of cockiness to Felix. No, what Washington needs now is a quick escape. He returns his attention to the jungle in front of him, finding his answer. There's a fast flowing river just ahead of him, and he can faintly hear the sounds of a waterfall in the distance. With one last glance back, he shoots someone in the leg in hopes that the others will slow down to help them and puts on a burst of speed. Only one of them stops to assist their teammate, the other two maintaining their pursuit. He runs along the edge of the rushing water, growing closer and closer to the end of it. Despite his best efforts, the Insurrectionists are still gaining on him. He puts his gun in the holster, refusing to hesitate as he leaps into the air and over the edge. 

He regrets everything. 

The ground doesn't just drop, it plummets down, the waterfall flowing off the side of a fucking cliff. Washington flails his arms, desperately trying to grab a rock or root hanging off of the side, but he had launched himself too far away to reach anything. He looks at the ever approaching water, then starts desperately trying to reattach his helmet. The latches click in place just in time for him to plummet into the water, being swept deeper beneath the surface by the current. He tries to orient himself, not knowing which way is what, and catches himself on a rock. He looks around, water rushing in through his armor where the bullets cut. He doesn't have much time before it fills his suit, and then he'll drown. Something streaks through the water a few feet away from him, leaving bubbles as it arcs down. Washington barely has time to consider it before something else strikes the water nearby, and then another. They're bullets. The Insurrectionists must be shooting at him, but at least now he knows which way is up. Washington starts swimming, letting the current push him away from the base of the cliff as he goes down. He could end up drowning, but resurfacing now would mean getting shot, so he has to take that risk. The water has started filling up the inside of his helmet, so he swims a few feet further before kicking up to the surface. A quick glance back shows that the soldiers are still watching the base of the water, so he takes off his helmet to breathe before heading to the shore. After pulling himself on land, he forces himself to stand and keep walking. He'll find somewhere to rest later. For now, he has to keep going. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Washington escaped for now, but he's still got a ways to go before he's back in the clear. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I'll be posting again soon!


	27. A Cry For Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington really wants to get off of this island.

If there's one thing that Washington is bad at, it's dying. He limps through the jungle, his good hand over the bullet wound that pierced his stomach and back. His armor is soaking wet, and he's missing a glove, and the back of his helmet is slightly dented from hitting that branch on the way out of the pelican, but he's alive. He's wounded, stranded on an island without an immediate way to contact his base, but he's still kicking. He's running on fumes made up of slowly waning adrenaline and spite, which is enough to keep him moving for a while longer. Hopefully his energy will last until he escapes this tropical hellhole, or else there's going to be a problem. Washington leans against a tree on the top of a hill, looking at the surrounding area wearily. He can see the jungle continue forth, surrounded by a seemingly endless ocean and the mountainsides with patches of clearings where trees were cleared for outposts to be built. In one of these empty spaces stands a tall radio tower, probably the only one that they had time to build before he and his team arrived. If that's the case, then it's certain that the communication outpost can not only control broadcasts across the entire island, but also contact ships off planet as well.

Washington puts one leg in front of the other, pulling himself off of the tree and carefully walking down the hill. Near the bottom, he gets onto his stomach and army crawls into some bushes near a dirt road. Once there, he lies in wait. It doesn't take long for a cargo truck to arrive, slowing down as it approaches the outpost. He waits until it's about to pass him before he rolls out of his cover and underneath it. He quickly grabs onto the bottom of it, letting his body drag a few feet before he forces his legs up and around a conveniently placed pipe. It's hard to maintain this position as the truck rolls up to the gate, his wounds and stomach muscles starting to ache, but he refuses to let go. The truck drives through the base, going into what Wash assumes is a garage, and comes to a halt. An Insurrectionist approaches it, stopping close enough that he could stab through the side of their shin with only a slight adjustment in position required. "Go ahead and put this stuff into storage, we've already cleared out a shed for you." 

"Right.." The driver clears his throat. "Hey uh, Morgan?" 

The first Insurrectionist, probably Morgan, groans. "Don't tell me you forgot where it is again." 

"No, it's nothing like that." The driver pauses for a moment as they open the door, hopping out of the truck and standing beside the other person. "You heard about the attack?"

Morgan huffs. "At this point, who hasn't?" 

"No need to get all hostile, I'm just making sure." The driver walks towards the back of the truck. "None of the guys here have been acting suspicious, right? And no one's gone on a bathroom break and hasn't returned?" 

"How the fuck should I know? I've been in this damn garage all day." Morgan follows him. 

"Because pretty much everyone who shows up or leaves has to go through you!" The driver pulls something out of the back of the truck, probably a crate full of weapons or toiletries. 

"It's not like I check everybody's IDs, and there's more than one bathroom in the base!" Morgan helps them lift the truck's cargo, and the two keep arguing as they exit the room. 

It brings Washington some minute level of comfort to know that these are the people he's going to be fighting against, but what really makes him feel better is when he finally lays on the ground beneath the truck and lets go of the pipes. His body is practically vibrating because of how long he held himself up, and if it wasn't for the inherent danger he's in, Washington would have passed out beneath the vehicle right then and there. He doesn't though, instead quickly scooting his way out from beneath it and hurrying behind a nearby warthog. He waits a moment, and when the Insurrectionists don't immediately come back, he heads towards where they went. He presses his back up against the wall, peering out of the partially open door. His eyes scan the empty hallway, then he quickly nudges the door the rest of the way open and goes further into the building. It's surprisingly empty, like walking through the back halls of the MOI if walls were a lighter shade of grey. Despite this, things aren't by any means quiet. The communication outpost is alive with the sounds of soldiers running about outside to desperately prepare for his arrival. They must be expecting another head on assault thanks to Carolina's change in tactics, which means that their focus is on preventing him from getting past the gate rather than checking if he's already inside of their walls. Washington isn't sure if it's from loss of blood or if it's because he's finally being taken seriously, but a warm feeling of smugness settles over him. All of this effort for one soldier who's probably only a few hours away from death's door, and all it took was him getting shot and falling out of a pelican. He kicked ass on the field for the Project, and it never got him this level of respect.

He stops a few feet away from a window, letting the shadows of armor pass by before he continues walking. The further into the building he got, the more the sounds of people moving about the outpost became replaced by a gentle hum of machinery. He's getting close to the control room, it could be behind any one of these doors now. He quietly opens up a couple of them, peering inside and moving onto the next until he finds what he's looking for. Finally, behind one of them is the key to his escape. Washington enters the room, closing the door behind him as he steps over a few extension chords and some other unknown wires that lead up to a few different desks. He eyes them and their control panels, choosing the one closest to him and getting to work. There's no password protection, thankfully, but all of the known frequencies are to other Insurrectionist outposts. Luckily, Washington's time as a general of Chorus army taught him the importance of knowing important signals. He passes up the opportunity to call command and begins typing in the codes for the Freelancer's mission comms, wanting to directly communicate with them.

Washington presses the input button for the speakers and leans towards the microphone. "This is agent Washington. I repeat, this is agent Washington. I'm still alive on this fucking island, but my comms are bust-" 

The control console crackles with electricity as 3 bullets embed themselves into it, causing Washington to leap back. A calm yet dangerous voice speaks from behind him. "Don't move, or I'll shoot you next." 

Washington opens his mouth to retaliate, then closes it again and purses his lips in thought. What was the name of CT's boyfriend again? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUUUN!!!!   
> So... Hey everyone. I'm sorry for posting later than usual, but due to some family issues, this fanfic is going to go on a short hiatus. I really need to take some time to focus on other more important things, but don't worry, it won't last super long. I'll be gone for less than a month (but more than a week), and then I'll be back.   
> For now, please leave a comment if you have any questions, a kudos if you enjoyed, and maybe share it with a friend who also has your love of RvB and Washington. Thanks for reading!


	28. Can't We Talk This Out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington tries to talk with the leader of the Insurrectionists.

Washington stands still, as asked. As much as he would like to get out of here, he knows that the Insurrectionist leader would get several shots off before he could turn around. Instead, he sighs tiredly and opens his mouth. "Well, there goes that idea." 

The leader huffs, his voice coming out angrily. "Put your weapons down."

Washington complies, setting his magnum on the broken control panel. He takes the sniper rifle off of his back, wincing slightly as he moves his shoulder, and sets it down by the other gun. He grabs one of the knives, speaking as he moves to place it down. "You know, you could just let me go." 

Wash swears he hears the leader's gloves squeak as he tightens his grip on whatever gun he's holding. "You and your friends killed several of my people." 

"So does CT, but y-" Washington ducks as the trigger clicks, firing a bullet into the wall beside him. He turns, throwing the knife, but it misses as the leader ducks and charges at him. His shoulder collides with Washington's stomach, making the Freelancer hiss in pain and surprise as he's lifted into the air before being slammed into the control panel, knocking the guns and other knife to the floor. Wash slams his elbow down onto his attacker's back, repeating the action several times before the leader stand up straight and decks him. The fist collides with the part of his helmet that covers his jaw, making his head snap to the side. He looks back, quickly raising his hand to block another punch and yelping when the hit jars his broken wrist. The leader throws another punch, and this time Washington uses his good hand to block before he pulls his leg up between him and kicks. CT's boyfriend stumbles back, but doesn't fall. Wash gets off of the panel, sprinting forward and throwing a punch. It's easily blocked, and he doesn't have time to back up before the leader throws his fist into Washington's ribs. Wash tries to pull away, but he feels a hand close around his wrist and yank him closer. The leader gets him in a choke hold, his good wrist held behind his back so that he can't get out of it. 

"How did you find out, and who else knows?" The grip tightens around his throat. He can't breathe he can't _brea_ _the he can't-_ Washington reaches back, his free hand smacking against the visor. He grits his teeth, ignoring the pain and fumbling around till he finds the helmet latches. He flips them, pulling it off of the leader and swinging his arm back to bash him in the face. CT's boyfriend cries out as the helmet collides with his nose, letting go so that he can cup his face. "You fucker!"

Washington stumbles forward, dropping the helmet and sucking in as much air as possible. He doesn't quite catch himself, falling to his good hand and knees as he chokes and tries inhaling again, the blurred edges of his vision starting to clear. He doesn't get much of a break before the leader grabs his shoulder, pulling him back sharply and shoving him to the ground. Wash tries to sit up, but he barely rises an inch before a heavy boot slams into the center of his chest and knocks him back down. The leader points a pistol at his head, and Washington stops trying. Connie's boyfriend is glaring down at him coldly, blood dropping from his now broken nose. 

"Answer the questions, asshole. How did you find out, and who else knows?"

"CT knows." Wash gasps quietly as the boot is pushed down a little harder. "Fuck, ease up a little!"

"Who else knows?!" The leader's trigger finger keeps twitching. 

"Christ, I've been feeding her information!" Washington glares up at him. "I told her about Texas, I told her about Alpha, and I told her about the AI's before they showed up!" 

The leader's anger quickly turns into surprise, and in his moment of distraction, Washington could have knocked him off balance. However, he doesn't. Maybe making allies would be smarter this time around. "You're Connie's informant?" 

"Yes! Now would you get off me?" 

He seems to consider this for a moment, but then his glare hardens once more. "Why should I trust you?"

"Are we really gonna do this now?" Washington waits for an answer, but upon getting nothing but silence, he keeps talking. "Fine. Not only have I been consistently giving you guys good intel on what the Project is up to, I am also no friend of those in charge. The Director is a self absorbed prick that will do anything to bring back what amounts to a shadow of his wife, including torturing an AI made after himself and turning his daughter into a super soldier with competitive tendencies that could get people killed or left behind. As for the Counselor, that creep is a master of manipulation. He's a genius when it comes to turning people against each other, giving an AI and armor enhancement to one sibling while lowering the other's ranking, pushing Carolina to be better than physically possible, making it easier for everyone to turn a blind eye to all of the questionable activities by covering it up with pretty lies, and never giving straight answers. Everything he does is designed to make people question themselves and each other. What they're doing to me and my... Team is fucked up, and it's making me pissed. Plus, let's be honest, I could have rolled you off of me and gone for the knife to my left like 5 times by now." 

The leader's eyes narrow as he adjusts his position, his eyes going to where the weapons lay on the floor just a few feet away before returning to Wash. He seems to think things over before he opens his mouth. "Does this mean you're on our side?" 

"Technically, yes, but it's not a long term arrangement." Washington pushes at his boot. "Now can you get your foot off of me?" 

The leader lowers his gun and steps off, but before Wash can get up, he punches him. 

The Freelancer's head snaps to the side, the hand he had raised to defend himself dropping to the floor as his body goes limp. The Insurrectionist leader watches a moment longer to make sure he's not faking before deciding that yes, CT's informant is unconscious. He picks him up, lifting the injured soldier onto his shoulder and leaving the communication room. He looks at the soldiers who were waiting outside the door. "Go get a medic, we need this one alive." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Guess who's back? I'm done with my break, so it's back to writing for me! However, I've also started college, so a few of the chapters might come out a little later than usual.  
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, there will be more soon. Till then, leave a kudos or a comment!


	29. Fuck Waiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Freelancers heard Washington's call for help, and an unlikely agent answers.

Texas was in the locker room, the training area having been in use by Carolina, and had just started cleaning her guns when the transmission had come in. "This is agent Washington. I repeat, this is agent Washington. I'm still alive on this fucking island, but my comms are bust-" and then it had stopped. No scream, no bangs or shouts, just static. The whole ship had gone livid, everyone wanting to gear up and stage a rescue mission, but the Director had put a stop to that quickly. They had shut down every request to go after Washington the moment it was made, saying that agent Washington wasn't important enough to risk several agents lives over, and that he was probably dead by now anyways. What they meant was that he was low ranking, didn't have any AI's on him, and his only augmentation was an easily replaceable EMP. The other agents were far from happy, but they had all walked off in silence. South screamed angrily at first, York and North protested, Maine fucking _growled_ , but they all eventually gave up and left the briefing room. 

If this was anyone else Tex would have ignored the call and followed orders, get a paycheck and all that, but he was different. They were far from being friends, but he was the only idiot on this entire ship that wasn't so damn naive. All of the other agents were worried about what the Director thought of them, Washington seemed almost like he wanted his spot on the leader board to keep from rising. He wasn't even all that surprised when she had arrived joined Project Freelancer. Sure, he acted amazed by her skills and abilities around the others, but she could see right through that little act of his. He wasn't in awe, far from it. Instead, he had seemed to be expecting that out of her. At first, it pissed Tex off to no ends that this little jackass was so indifferent to her showing everyone up, but the longer she spent here the more she realized that Washington was far more than the inexperienced rookie everyone made him out to be. He was asking questions during debriefings that, while they were worded to be innocent enough, were far too tactical for someone of his caliber to be asking. He was meeting up with CT in private, which the other agents had written it off as anything ranging from the two of them hooking up to her teaching him some knife skills in exchange for him showing her how to ride a skateboard. He was always a little tenser around the Counselor than anyone trusting in their employers should be. Wash knew something that everyone else didn't, including her, and she needed him alive to find out what. 

Texas made her way to the break room, pausing outside when she heard York's agitated voice. "Fuck waiting! Washington is alive, and we need to go rescue him!" 

North chimes in. "He's relying on us to go save him. I mean hell, Wash called all of us directly, clearly he was in a bad position"

"Which is exactly why we shouldn't go." The others start to argue, but she talks over them. "It's probably a trap! You all heard how suddenly his transmission was cut off! If he was attacked, we would have heard something! Also, why didn't he call you guys when he first fell out of the pelican? Why wait till now" 

Maine speaks, his voice low and angry. "He hit branches, and was probably unconscious." 

"If that's the case, then he was probably captured, and this is all one big fucking trap." Texas has to agree with South on that one, but it still won't stop her. Trap or not, she can kill anyone that gets in her way. 

"Cut it out, South." North looks at his sister with disappointment.

South ignores him. "Delta, back me up! If Washington was knocked out when he landed, then he was caught and rescuing him will lead to us getting caught in an ambush." 

Everyone is quiet as the AI speaks. "Logically speaking, yes. However, that does not mean that agent Washington was even caught in the first place. It is also likely that his communication equipment was damaged in the fall, making it impossible for him to let us know he's alive, and that he found some other means to call us. As for the abrupt termination of his signal, perhaps whatever apparatus he was using was destroyed before he could finish. Yet, despite us all hoping that this is the case, it is also likely that he was captured as South had suggested, and forced to give up the frequency to our team station." 

The group is silent as they take what he said in. Someone huffs, probably South, but other than that no one speaks. Texas shakes her head, half annoyed and half entertained by their arguing. Before anyone can say anything else, she opens the door and walks in. "Since when were you scared of danger?" 

All heads turn toward her, along with South's very pissed off glare. "I'm not fucking scared."

"Sure you aren't." Tex smirks, watching as North grabs his sister's arm to keep her from starting a fight that there's no chance of winning. She ignores them, closing the door and walking to the center of the room. "I don't get why you're still discussing this. If Washington is alive, you kill whoever gets in your way, trap or not. If he's dead, then we'll slaughter all of them and leave. Now lets go." 

"Wait." CT looks around the room. "We need a plan." 

Texas rolls her eyes. "You want a plan? Fine. We're going to steal a ship from the hanger, fly back to the planet, grab the first Insurrectionist we see and interrogate him for information on Washington's whereabouts." 

Delta tilts his head to the side. "That's a terrible plan." 

"I don't hear you coming up with a better one." 

"Okay, why don't we all calm down?" North looks around the room, sharing meaningful glances with everybody. Tex raises an unimpressed eyebrow, but she doesn't say anything. "We all agree that Wash is in danger, and that something needs to be done. We also all agree that this mission's going to be a pain in the ass. I really don't see why we're all still standing around talking about this, especially now that Texas is willing to help." 

South glares at the ground. "Like she's all that great." 

North looks at her. "She is, and we could really use her help." 

He tries to put a hand on his sister's shoulder, but she shrugs him off and steps away. "Wash is probably dead by now! You want to go against direct orders and get yourselves killed? Fine, but count me out."

She storms out of the room, bumping York's shoulder as she passes him. No one bothers stopping her, knowing that it'd be a wasted effort. As expected, Texas is the one who has to break the silence. "Anyone else want to chicken out?" 

York shakes his head. "I'm staying." 

The others all voice their agreement, and Texas grins. Finally, the fun part can begin. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm so glad that you all liked the last chapter, so here's a new one!  
> Comments and kudos are always welcome.


	30. For Our Rookie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the Freelancers have decided to save Washington, but they'll need to get off of the MOI first.

Typically, the size of a team depends on the difficulty of a mission. However, one can't really request more agents when the mission that they're doing was strictly forbade by the Director. Still, five agents and a couple AI's isn't a bad start. Tex and CT have already slipped into the hanger, sneaking past the ship personnel and into a pelican, while North and Maine are waiting in the hallway for their turn. York, on the other hand, is sneaking past the soldiers who are unloading some crates under 479er's supervision. He's already made it halfway across the room, albeit a little slower than the others had-

_Far slower than agent Texas did, and with my help._

York shakes his head, quietly mumbling. "You're throwing off my concentration. D" 

_As I just said, I'm the one guiding you. All you have to do is-_

"Yes yes, you make a great GPS, happy?" York smirks, Delta's indignant mood radiating through his mind.

"Both of you need to shut up before you're spotted." Tex's voice breaks through their banter, and York glances toward the pelican she's waiting inside of. Even though the back is open, he can't see either her or CT. Maybe they're hiding in the cockpit? 

He inches forward, about to sprint the distance from the containers he's hiding behind to another identical set when a pair of legs in light grey and white armor step into his path. He backpedals, barely managing to stop himself before he slams into them. The person leans against the crate, not-entertained sass flowing out of every inch of her pose. "Well well well..." 

"Uh... 479er! What a surprise?" York looks up, his eyes meeting her blue visor. 

"Sure is, ain't it?" Her sarcasm is palpable. 

York opens his mouth to answer, but falls silent when a different voice speaks. "Hey uh, where does this go?" 

"For fuck's sake, over there." 479er turns, pointing to the opposite side of the hanger. "All packages go to the left, all containers go to the right. If I have to explain that one more time I'll- Henry! Don't you dare scratch that paint!" 

York starts to inch back. "I see that you're busy, so I'll just-" 

"Get on the ship, but wait for me. I want to have a talk with you before you go." 479er hurries off toward the other personnel, barking out orders. If she wasn't such a good pilot, York is certain that she would have been a general. 

_York, the mission isn't complete_

"Right. Thanks, D." York risks a peek over the crates, watching as 479er busily distracts the other people for a couple seconds with overly complicated instructions on where to and where not to put things, then hurries into the cover of the pelican. 

Texas steps out of her hiding spot, fists clenched and voice angry. "You could've gave us away." 

"Relax, okay? 479er said she just wants to talk." York glances back, his eyes going to North and giving him a nod. The purple Freelancer hurries across the hanger, making it to cover in less than half the amount of time that York did. Granted, he wasn't stopped by a pilot either, and he doubts Theta would have-

_The only difference between Theta's assistance is that his is listened to._

York frowns. "I listen to your advice!.... Most of the time." 

Delta isn't buying it. _You listen approximately-_

"Our cover wasn't blown, was it?" North glances back, waving Maine over. 

York looks at him. "One moment, D and I are talking." 

Delta appears by his shoulder, his green glow dimmed slightly to avoid giving away their position. "I already made my point. While yes, we technically were caught, I don't believe that 479er is going to give us away." 

"Like hell I am." 479er steps into the pelican, Maine right behind her. "Remind me again, how are you guys are professional infiltrators?" 

York looks at Maine, who shrugs sheepishly, then back at his pilot. "How'd you spot me?" 

"I have to have keen senses to get you guys out of tough spots." She walks into the cockpit, looking at CT. "Since when were you the pilot? Outta my spot." 

CT gets up, sliding out of the way. "You're going to help us?" 

"I'm offended you didn't ask me to in the first place." 479er plops into her spot behind the controls, the engine coming to life as she flips a few switches. "Everyone sit your asses down. I shouldn't have to go over the rules without Wash here, but just in case any of you forgot, anyone that pukes or lets someone bleed all over the back is going to clean it up." 

York glances out at the back as the pelican lifts off of the floor, watching the personnel scramble to find out what's going on and stop them. He gives a casual salute to anyone who might be watching, then sits down and ignores the straps. He sighs, his thoughts going to Carolina. Will she be mad? What if she's upset they didn't ask her? He pushes that thought aside. She chose to follow orders over saving a teammate. As much as York cares about her, she would have handed them over to the Director in a heartbeat. He shakes his head, hoping he's wrong about that, but knowing better than to dwell on it. "Hang on, Wash. We'll be there in a few hours." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! So, for whatever reason, I really struggled with getting this chapter made. If any of the characters seem a little off, that's why. I hoped ya'll enjoyed it anyways, don't forget to leave a comment, a kudos, and share it with a couple friends!


	31. Was I Wrong?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> South remains behind.

Washington is dead. If they're too stupid to realize that, then maybe they're all as naive as he is... Was..... South stomps down the hall, her fists clenched at her sides. They're going to risk their lives over a dead man. Even Delta had agreed with her - fucking Delta! - that if by some chance Wash was alive when he sent the message, he's either been killed by now or taken hostage. Either way, they'd be walking into a death trap. She turns a corner, two staff personnel leaping out of her way as they spot her coming. She gives them a sideways glare that they can't really see behind her helmet, but they look away immediately. South continues past them, turning another corner to get out of their sight before they do something stupid that'll piss her off even more. She doesn't really care where she's going, so long as it's away from her idiot teammates. Those assholes are going to get themselves killed, Tex included, if they think they can take on a whole planet of people. Isn't that what got Wash left behind in the first place? Carolina biting off more than she could chew? South grits her teeth, grinding them against each other with anger. They all get onto her for being too impulsive, for being too hot headed, for being too unlike _North_ , but the moment she makes a sensible decision they all flip what side they're on! She turns, angrily punching a wall. Her fist blooms with pain, but nothing's broken. As she pulls her hand back, she spots a small web of cracks in the plaster, and huffs. With her sudden outburst out of the way, South glances around to make sure no one saw it. Once she's sure the coast is clear, she resumes walking. It's not her fault that they can't see what's so blatantly obvious: Wash is either dead or dying, and he'll be killed before they get there. South's all for revenge, and would like nothing better than to strangle stab and punch every last Insurrectionist of that damn island, but she knows that trading her life isn't worth the satisfaction. If there was a chance that Washington was still stranded out there waiting for help, she'd of jumped at the opportunity, but the fact remains that there's no way in hell that Washington is alive. He's dead, that's final. 

...

... He is. There's just no other explanation. 

...

There isn't! He was shot, fell out of a helicopter, and likely died after the fall! Even if he survived that - which he probably didn't! - South is certain that there's no way he'd make it more than a few hours without them down there. I _mean, come on, this is Wash we're talking about._ Everyone on this ship knows that he's only here because the Director needed one more person to have all the states filled. Well, his name is on the leader board, so there's that. Of course he never made it to the top 5, but he was above her for a while now... South shakes her head. That was just a fluke. She's proved countless times that she can kick his ass over and over, she has a win ratio of like 9 to 1 with him in training sessions. She couldn't survive alone on that island, so he couldn't either, at least not for a few days... But it hasn't been a few days, it's only been several hours. Maybe if he got lucky, and she means really lucky, then he could- No. Washington doesn't **do** lucky. If he had at least an ounce of luck in him, he wouldn't have a problem with cars, now would he? Except that's not true, Washington succeeds at unlikely shit all the time. On missions, it's a tossup if he'll stick to the back and let the others do all the heavy lifting or if he'll end up saving one of them by making a shot from an angle that would have been difficult even for Carolina with pinpoint accuracy. In fact, the more danger any one of them seems to be in, the less babysitting he needs. South bites the inside of her cheek. Okay, lets say he DID survive the fall, what then? He didn't have a med kit on him, York still has the healing unit, and he probably got hurt in the landing. How would Washington, the baby of the team, survive? He'd need to escape the Insurrectionists who were after him, which given that he was shot, he probably wouldn't get very far. Still, he had to of lived long enough to try and call for help otherwise none of them would have received that transmission in the first place, so clearly he got away. All right, so far not dead. After that he'd need to find some way to bandage himself up. Maybe he sneaked into one of the smaller outposts and stole a container of biofoam? But then how'd he do that? It would be near impossible to go anywhere with a bleeding hole in his back. 

... Maybe the reason he sent the distress call so late was because he was captured during his attempt to find medical equipment, and they forced him to do it. South's fists clench again as well deserved fury flooded her. She knew it! This was all just a ruse to get the Freelancers to come back for Washington so that the Insurrectionists could have them all in one place, and then they'd be ambushed! She can't let that happen. South turned, making her way for the break room. She'll burst in there and talk some sense into them, Texas and her stupid fucking plans be damned. If they won't listen to her, she'll get Carolina. Surely two angry bitches would be enough to- 

"All available agents and staff get to the hanger bay, there's been a breach in security. Several agents have gone rogue, among which are agents York, Connecticut, Nor-"

South tunes F.I.L.S.S. out, breaking into a full sprint. Those assholes couldn't decide whether Wash was alive or not just a few minutes ago, and now they're suddenly stealing a pelican and flying off just moments after? This has to be Tex's fault. South is starting to see why she and Carolina don't get along. 

She rushes into the hanger, the door already open, but far too late. There's a blank spot in the line of pelicans, and a bunch of soldiers in light grey armor standing around uselessly. South's fists clench, and she roars in anger. Those sons of bitches are going to get themselves killed! 

The Director watches the live feed of the cameras around the ship, his eyes focused in on the hanger bay. Alpha shifts beside him uncertainly, and the Counselor observes South shouting at the staff to get in the pelicans so that she can _fly out there and get their stupid fucking asses back the the MOI_. The Director looks over, his eyes narrowed with frustration. "Price, am I to assume that all this time you've been working on the agents' loyalty that you were bullshitting me?" 

The Counselor shakes his head. "No sir, merely that a miscalculation-"

"Your _miscalculation_ is going to cost you your job if it isn't fixed shortly." The Counselor falls silent, and the Director looks back at the live feed. His jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. 

The Counselor also looks back at the monitor, his eyes watching the screen for a moment before he speaks. "It's possible that we could still use this to our advantage." 

The Director fixes him with an unimpressed glare. "And how would we do that?" 

"They left agents South and Carolina behind." The Counselor pauses, and continues to speak when his boss doesn't cut in. "Agent South is clearly going to see this as a betrayal of her trust, which will weaken her loyalties to her team and strengthen it with command if we play this right. As for agent Carolina, she's already in a vulnerable state of mind, having left her teammate behind to die. The fact that her teammates didn't include her in their rescue escapade is going to push her further into a state of reclusive behavior and desperation, which we'll be able to manipulate to our benefit." 

The Director listens, his body relaxing somewhat. Alpha just looks back and forth between the two of them in disbelief, though he's not sure whether it's in shock that they're such merciless dicks or if it's over surprise that he can even be shocked by this anymore. After a long moment of silence, the Director nods. "Start making preparations for whatever plan you have immediately. I want this to be a success." 

The Counselor nods. "Yes sir, I'll get on that immediately."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I'm sorry for how long this chapter took to make, but like I said before, I started college so updates are going to be a bit slower than they were before. Anywho, next chapter we'll get back to Wash! I hope you all enjoyed, don't forget to leave a comment or a kudos and share with a friend! I'll be posting soon.


	32. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington has a chance to explain himself, but that doesn't mean that he's going to.

Washington has had headaches before, and because of how familiar he is with them, he can quickly tell that this thankfully isn't a concussion. No, this is more a combination of exhaustion and having been knocked out. He remains there for a moment, eyes closed as he observes what he can feel from his surroundings. He is both tied and cuffed to a chair, wearing his under-suit and no armor. The electronic clamps around his wrists are too tight to pull out of, and he can't reach the knots in the rope. The mercenaries must have him then, wait no, that's not the case. He hasn't gone to Chorus yet, or at least this version of him hasn't made it there. Wash slowly exhales and tries to center his mind. You'd think that after all this time in the past, he would have gotten used to no longer being in the present. If he's not with the mercs, then he must be with the Insurrectionists. He cautiously pulls at the ropes, testing them for any flaws, and finds none. They're wound tightly across his body, firmly securing him in place. He can also feel the stretchy gauze that has been wrapped around his abdomen, his wrist, and even some for the cut on his thigh. However, while he was taken care of, whoever did it was a shitty medic. Wash can feel his bruised neck and shoulders, wincing at the pain brought about by moving his right arm, and is having to take shallower breaths in so that he doesn't hurt his side. He's on some pretty low grade painkillers, and that's IF they even medicated him in the first place. 

"You can open your eyes now." Wash sighs, knowing that voice. He broke the owner's nose not too long ago. He promptly follows the order, scanning the room. Despite their being a perfectly good chair in the otherwise relatively empty room, the Insurrectionist leader is leaning against the wall near the door, his arms folded over his chest. His helmet is back on his head, but he can see some dents and scratches in the armor that haven't been buffed and polished out of existence yet. As for the rest of his surroundings, there's nothing really worth noting. Four solid walls, no windows, two chairs, and a whole lot of tension. The aforementioned leader gets up from his spot across the room, grabbing the empty chair and turning it backwards so that he can sit down. Wash resists the urge to roll his eyes. _And Tucker said I was dramatic._ The leader watches him quietly for a moment, his expressionless visor seeming to portray distrust and... Desperation? That's not the right word, but it's something along the lines. They sit like that for what would be an uncomfortable amount of time for anyone else, but lucky for Wash, he has experience with people looking at him like he's a science project. This is nothing he can't handle. "Do you know why I kept you alive?" 

Wash already knows the answer. "Because it would have been stupid to kill me." 

The leader flexes his fingers, then rests them against the back railing of his seat. "Exactly. You're too valuable to kill right now, but if you give me a reason to doubt your integrity, I won't hesitate to throw you back out to my men. I know plenty of them would love to get their hands on you. Am I clear?" 

A scary threat for sure, but an idle one. Even if he were to make them suspicious, it'd take a lot more than some petty comments to get him sent outside for a revenge party. Still, Wash knows better than to smart off right now. "Crystal." 

Okay, maybe _one_ snide remark won't hurt. The leader tilts his head to the side, as if he's deciding whether to be amused or annoyed, then continues speaking. "What's your angle on this?" 

Wash sits up as straight as he can, his sarcastic demeanor shifting to a more serious one. "Like I said, I hate what the Director and Counselor are doing. I want to stop them before things get even more out of hand, and even though I haven't quite figured out how, I'm getting there. Making contact with you guys was an unplanned step, but I'll take what I can get." 

"If you weren't expecting our help, what was your original plan?" 

"I didn't really have one aside from looking for evidence to prove what they were doing, and show it to everyone else on the Mother of Invention. Of course, that shit's harder to get than approval from the Director. That, and there's too many unknowns for it to have worked." One of the many problems with just having the Alpha version of Church testify against the Director would have been that there was no guarantee for him to have ended up back home. Now, where home is exactly doesn't matter, so long as it had each and every one of those colorful idiots in it. Wash clears his throat, continuing to speak. "The better idea was for me to ally with CT, give her vital information to build up trust, and then hopefully work out a way for you guys to end the project while I fade into the background." 

"Hang on, you don't want any recognition for this?" The leader leans a little closer, as if trying to judge how true his words are, and Wash really wishes that he too was in armor. "Why not? Taking down the project would earn you a wall's worth of medals and trophies." 

"That's exactly the problem." Wash sighs, looking down at his lap. "There's a group of people that I need to meet up with, people outside of Project Freelancer, who deserve better than what they've been dealt. Getting to shake some general's hand and become a hero would not only draw unwanted attention to me, but it would put a target on their backs. You guys are more than welcome to take credit for ending this shit show of a project, along with all the positive PR, so long as you make sure that my team is safe from whatever happens next." 

The leader sits there quietly, mulling over his words. Wash shifts, trying to get more comfortable in his seat. It feels like one of those chairs in middle school that's base was too flat and the back was too straight. After a moment, CT's boyfriend speaks. "All right, I'm fine with you slipping out of the public's eye once this is all over. Until then, keep gathering information however you're doing it, and let us know about any new developments. Connie will tell you if there's a change in plans." 

Wash watches him get up, turning to leave. "Cool, cool. Hey can I get a glass of water?" 

The door shuts, leaving him alone in the cell. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I just want to say thank you to everybody still reading this, and while I'm going to try and get back to posting consistently, I'm not going to make any promises. I deeply enjoy every single comment you guys make, so please, feel free to ask questions!


	33. Quiet, Not Silent

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just because Maine is a man of few words does not mean that he doesn't have anything to say.

The hum of the pelican's engines vibrate throughout the metal hull, almost unnoticeable after all of his time spent in and around them, but still there all the same. It helps to fill the silence of the small ship, the usual chatter from the others having been dimmed by the looming sense of dread. It didn't take a genius to know what his teammates were thinking about, especially when Maine shared their concerns. He hadn't seen Washington get shot, yet he had turned around just in time to see York trying to dive out after him. Had he of known that Carolina was going to abandon their rookie, Maine would have leaped out the back of the pelican himself, yet that is neither here nor there. What matters is that Washington's alive, and that they're coming to get him, Director's orders be damned. He'll be the first to admit that the distress call they all received was suspicious, but he was willing to take the risk for Wash. Something had been bothering him about that kid since the sarcophagus mission, something that he couldn't quite place. He was.... Different, more cautious than before and less open. Maine wasn't sure what had happened, maybe Wash had received some sort of brain damage from the stunt he pulled to get to them, but whatever it was had caused him to change. He became more withdrawn, openly avoiding North and saying things every now and then the first few weeks afterwards that just didn't make any sense. There was one time during a training mission where Maine swore he saw Wash shudder while watching South pick up a gun, and when asked what was the matter, he just said that it was cold. That's another thing; Wash has been overly hesitant to spend any time alone with South. The only person who Wash really seems comfortable with getting one on one time with is CT, but at least he doesn't actively avoid hanging solo with the others. Whenever they're all in the recreational room and the day is winding down to an end, which has become a rare occurrence recently, Wash will always come up with an excuse as to why he has to leave that instant to avoid being left with her. Thankfully, South doesn't seem to notice, or if she does then she's far more subtle about it than Maine had expected her to be. 

"All right everyone, last chance to chicken out." 479er glances back, not giving anyone the opportunity to speak up as she continues to talk. Not that any of them would leave if given the chance, this is their rookie that they're talking about. "Double check your weapons one last time, get those jet packs ready, and make sure you've got all your luck with you! _Heaven knows you're gonna need it._ I'll do all I can to keep them busy while you all drop in, but I can't guarantee that I'll be back on time to pick you up, so try to secure your own ride home if possible." 

Maine stands, the others already up and bustling about around him as they grab their weapons up off of the seats they were sitting in. He casts a glance at Tex, who's positioned by the door of the pelican. She already has her jet pack ready, guns too, and is more than prepared to hop out once given the signal. He was surprised when she came to their "secret meeting", and pleasantly shocked to see her rally the rest of the team into this impromptu rescue mission. He's not sure what her motives are, maybe she doesn't have any, but he's grateful for her help. He goes and stands beside her as the pelican opens, his eyes scanning the area. Behind them, there's a vast expanse of seemingly endless ocean. The planet itself is mostly water, only having land with livable conditions in the form of small islands on it's upper and lower poles. Everywhere else is full of sweltering heat and deserts, making it nearly uninhabitable. The waters shortly give way to a beach, which is quickly replaced by jungles as 479er flies the pelican towards their destination. They fly past what appears to be an outpost, a siren blaring out at their sudden intrusion. Without a word, Texas jumps out.

York shakes his head, leaping into the air after her. "That's our cue!" 

"Coulda used more of a warning next time." CT is next to follow, everyone else jumping out behind them. Maine is one of the last ones to take the plunge, pushing his discomfort with heights aside. The wind rushes past him, whipping against his armor. The others all do their best to spread out, keeping a safe distance between all of them as they plummet toward the ground. In the distance, Maine can see smaller ships taking off into the sky, ready to give chase after 479er. There's an almost unanimous sound of jet packs being turned on as the team of Freelancers nears the treetops, slowing their descent considerably. Maine still breaks several branches on his way down, causing a small storm of twigs and leaves to cascade to the jungle floor alongside him. The others, despite jumping out first, land after he does. Perks of being taller and therefore heavier, he guesses. Texas looks around, then starts walking quickly. The others follow behind her, guns at the ready and eyes scanning the area. They're coming for Washington, and nothing is going to stop them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I hoped you all enjoyed that chapter, because I certainly had fun writing it. While the Meta had a lot of screen time, we never really got to know what Maine was like. Because of this, I've built up a head canon that while he doesn't speak often, he's a whole lot smarter and more opinionated than people think him to be. That, and he's a super big softy who gives amazing hugs, but I'm not sure if that head canon will make an appearance in this fic. I've got a question for you guys: Would you prefer if I go into detail about the rescue mission that they have planned, or skip it? If you're all just here for agent Washington, then I'm happy to gloss over all that and cut to when they find him,or I'd be glad to write a chapter or two about what exactly the team gets up to.   
> Anyways, thank you for reading! Leave a comment if you have anything to say or ask.


	34. Sunset Vine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Freelancers want to save Wash, but first they have to find out where he is.

Theta is pacing around North's mind quietly, the timid AI's thoughts running a million miles a minute. North is doing his best to open himself up more and relax, hoping that it'll help comfort the kid, but it doesn't seem to be working. He knows why, of course: He's also worried about Washington, so Theta poking around his thoughts will just reinforce both of their concerns. He shrugs it off, deciding to focus on their surroundings instead. The jungle is hot enough to make a him form a thin layer of sweat beneath his armor, which his suit's AC is doing wonders at counteracting. He can see a variety of plants, mostly trees and shrubbery, but also some flowers and stuff like that as well. North smiles softly, an idea forming. "Hey Theta?"

"Yeah?" Theta appears by his shoulder, his projection keeping pace with the rest of their group.

"Do you recognize any of these plants?" North gestures around him, and ignores how Texas is watching them. 

"I don't know..." Theta glances at the shrubbery, his head tilting to the side as he leans forwards as if that'll help him see better. "They look a little familiar, but I don't know any of them by name. Maybe Delta does? You could ask him." 

"Why don't we come up with our own names?" North can feel the excitement, like a tiny firework blooming in the back of his subconscious. Small, yet noticeable, just like his AI. 

"Name them?" Theta looks back at him. "Why'd we do that?" 

"Why not?" North shrugs. "It could be fun, and it'd definitely pass the time." 

"Okay, well, what'd we call them?" Theta looks back at the jungle, his attention turning toward one type of vines in particular. It has a purplish hue to the otherwise gray stems, with small vibrant orange flowers dotting up and down it's thicker looking stalks. 

"Oh, I don't know." North steps over a fallen log. "You go ahead and name the first one." 

"Hm..." Theta's projection drifts closer to the vines. He folds his arms over his chest, staring thoughtfully and tilting his head from side to side. North chuckles quietly. The kid looks like he's an art critic. After a moment, he turns and looks back. "How about Rìluò téng? That's Chinese for sunset vine. Y'know, cause it's orange and purple." 

"Ray-lou tung?" North butchers the pronunciation, but it doesn't matter. "That's pretty creative, Theta. How about that one?" 

Theta looks at the large flower that he pointed at, taking in the varying shades of red. ".... How about Merah?" 

"Is that also Chinese?" York looks at the two of them, his tone jovial and lighthearted. 

Theta shakes his head. "No, it's Indonesian." 

York smiles beneath his helmet. "Merah, huh? So what's that one mean?" 

Maine's voice is a deep grumble. "Red." 

North raises an eyebrow, looking his way with surprise. "Since when do you speak Indonesian?" 

"Since when is this much talking allowed on missions?" Tex's voice cuts into their conversation, a strict seriousness to it. "479er can only distract so many of them. The Insurrectionists undoubtedly have scouts already scouring the jungle for us, which is why we need to find out where Wash is _quickly_ and _quietly_."

"Sorry.." Theta disappears, feeling slightly guilty. North mentally nudges the area where he can feel his implants connecting to his mind. _Don't worry about it, okay? It was my idea._

"We're almost there anyways." York speeds up a little, heading to the front of the group with Tex. They come to a stop not that long after, but North doesn't see a difference in the change of scenery. They're still standing in the jungle, no pathways or outposts in sight. Thankfully, York speaks up. "Delta says this is about where Wash would have landed, give or take a few yards." 

CT looks around, her right hand clenched around a pistol that hasn't left her grip since the start of this mission, and another one, hovering near her knives. "All right, spread out and look for signs of-" 

"Found his trail." Everyone looks at Texas, then follows her gaze toward the treetops. Above her is a mess of broken branches and snapped vines, and a quick glance below her shows a pile of leaves, twigs, and an indent in the ground. 

CT walks over to it, kneeling down by the indents before glancing ahead. "All right, I've got a trail. It should lead us to him.... Hopefully." 

"Hopefully is better than nothing." North looks closer at the indent, seeing blood mixed in with the drying mud... He has to push down his nausea. Blood doesn't bother him, but injured teammates do. CT follows the trail, and the others follow her. Texas sticks to the front, her posture screaming that she has the situation under control, and yet here he is fighting to keep his emotions in check and be the calm and collected one that the others need him to be. 

_It's okay if you're nervous.... I am too._ Theta's voice reaches him, quiet yet comforting. North can't help but smile, nudging his implants again. Theta nudges back, and the two of them fall into a silent sprint with the others.

They follow the trail for a while, finding that it mixed with several others. They lose it at the waterfall, and collectively agree to follow the Insurrectionist ones back to their base. The outpost that they end up at is clearly meant for communication with the rest of the island, which is a step in the right direction. How else would Wash have contacted them if it wasn't with the giant radio tower? North frowns though, the exuberance he felt from finding where Wash is likely being held quickly wearing off when he sees what they're up against. The wall has patrols all over it, and behind that first layer of defense are rows upon rows of vehicles, along with Insurrectionists walking to and from each of the buildings. This place has to be where they're keeping him, it wouldn't make sense to have so many people here otherwise with 479er wreaking havoc on their ships. He looks at the others, keeping his voice to just above a whisper. "Anyone have any ideas?" 

"You guys see those soldiers?" CT points at a pair of them standing guard on the wall. They seem to be alert, their heads from left to right as they look for any intruders. "One of us can make a distraction, get their attention, they raise the alarm, and then the others will get in from a different side and find Wash."

"Carolina used that tactic last time we were here, it didn't end well." York leans back against a tree, his arms crossed as he thinks back on his previous mission. "Besides, they'll probably be expecting it this time." 

"What if we radioed 479er to fly over the base, and then sneak in during the confusion?" North looks at the others. "I could stay out here and provide cover fire for if things go sideways." 

"I'd rather not risk it." CT huffs, looking over every detail of the base. Her shoulders are tight, and the others would see her deep brown eyes are zeroed in on the problem like a hawk if she wasn't wearing a helmet. They all fall into a silence, quietly brainstorming up more ideas for how to infiltrate's the outpost. Washington must have gotten in here somehow. If he did it while hurt, surely they could find a- BANG!!! An explosion goes off from within the base, snapping them all out of their thoughts as they look toward the sound. North can see several Insurrectionists running toward what looks like storage building, but they retreat as more small explosions go off from inside. Shrapnel shoots out of the windows, shattering the glass and hitting a few of the people nearby. CT's fists clench as she watches the carnage, her voice sounding almost angry as she speaks. "What the hell's happening?"

North looks around, hoping to find an answer, but Maine beats him to it. 

"Where's Tex?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not even gonna make an excuse this time. I'm sorry that the chapter is out late, but unfortunately, this will probably become the new normal. I know that the whole thing about this fic is that I put out short chapters with short waits between each update, but the new norm is probably going to be short chapters with irregular and sporadic posting schedules until I can get my shit back together. Don't worry about me though, I'm kicking my problem's ass. Anyways, I hadn't intended for this chapter to get so... Sweet, all of the sudden, but I kinda like it. I mean, who could resist Theta being the creative little sweetie he is? I did struggle with trying to name that first plant though, naming shit is hard.   
> I hope you all enjoyed, and I appreciate everyone who reads this. You're awesome. Seriously, thank you.


	35. Team Work, Or Lack Thereof

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Perhaps leaving the others wasn't the smartest idea. 
> 
> WARNING: Contains mild torture. This chapter is entirely skippable if that kinda stuff triggers you, but like I said, it's incredibly mild. If you want to skip, all you need to know is that Tex gets herself into some trouble.

Texas was not a team player. She was better suited for solo missions, or cleaning up the messes of the lower ranking Freelancers when the time came to it, so you could say she was out of her element when everyone started _discussing_ how they'd get into the outpost. To her, it was plain as day what the best route past the defenses was (she snuck around the edges of the wall, then lobbed a grenade into an important looking building), yet they had wanted to stand around and _talk_ about it. She smirks, watching as the Insurrectionists within the base frantically try to stop the ongoing chain of explosions, quickly uses the distraction to go deeper into the base. She ducks behind a warthog, grabbing an Insurrectionist and snapping his neck before laying him down beneath the vehicle in one fluid motion. One fast glance around tells her that no one saw that, so she carries on her way toward the garage looking area. She presses her back against the wall as several soldiers run out of it. They're too preoccupied with the fact that something had blown up to notice a full grown woman in power armor less than a few feet away, so she grabs the last one and holds a knife up to his throat. 

"Say anything, and you're dead." Texas starts backing him up into the garage with her, pulling him behind a large supply truck. She slams him up against the door, moving her knife so that it's pressed into the small of his back. "You're gonna tell me where your boss is keeping the prisoner, or I'll sever your spine." 

"I-I don't know where he is!" The man pauses for a second, then throws some more defiance into his next set of words. "And if I did, I wouldn't tell you!" 

"Well that's a shame, I guess you have no use for me." She pushes the knife down, making it cut into the vulnerable part of his armor and slice a tiny ways into the skin on his back. 

"Wait!" The man tries to pull away, but she slams him against the truck again. He makes a pained gasp as the blade digs deeper into his flesh. "I know where he is!" 

"Really now? Because I could swear you just said that you **didn't."** Texas moves the knife up, his blood starting to drip down and onto the cement beneath them. 

"I do! I do I do I do I do, I swear it!" He's starting to panic now. Good, that's what she needs. 

"Slow down with those 'I do's, asshole. We aren't getting married." Texas stops moving the blade, but she keeps the tip of it in place. "Talk quickly, I've got a schedule to keep." 

The Insurrectionist relaxes some. "He's in the radio shack.." 

"Which building is that?" 

"It's uh, the large on in the center. It's actually pretty big, I don't know why everyone calls it a shack when it's that size-" She digs the knife deeper into his back to speed things along. "-It's two buildings down, to the left of the tower I swear! You can't miss it!" 

Texas thinks she knows which building he's talking about, she saw it when the Freelancers first started scoping out the base. "Which room?" 

"How should I know-?" He jolts as she twists the knife just a tad. "He's probably in one of the spare storage rooms we haven't filled up! They make up the entire hallway to the absolute west of the building!" 

"Thanks, that's really helpful." Texas moves the knife out of his back, then stabs him through the base of his neck. He spasms, then goes completely still as the life drains out of him. She lets go of his body, letting it stay propped up against the truck as his head lolls to the side, and wipes the blood off of her knife. Once it's somewhat cleaned, she trades it out for her gun, then turns around and runs out of the garage. All too suddenly she has to leap to the side, barely avoiding the fucking rocket that went flying at her face! It hits the ground, detonating on impact and sending her flying. She tucks and rolls, using the momentum to get back onto her feet and start running. A bullet whizzes past her head, followed by another, and then suddenly it feels like everyone in the base is trying to get a shot at her. She'd normally welcome the challenge, but there's just too many Insurrectionists and she was caught off guard. Texas looks around, spotting an open door to a building. It'll have to do. She sprints for it, leaping into the air and summersaulting into the foyer. She shoots two soldiers as she lands, then kicks the door shut behind her and takes off down the hall. Three more of them are in the hallway, fumbling to draw up their weapons. She takes aim, shooting the one closest to her and grabbing their arm, throwing them at their second nearest buddy. After that she turns to the last one, slamming her fist into his arm and causing his shot to go wild. He tries to punch her, but she catches his fist, using his body to kick up off of his chest and flip onto the second Insurrectionist. He cries out as she lands on him, and she can hear something snap, but whatever the sound came from is drowned out as she fires off 3 bullets into his chest. She turns, shooting one last bullet at the final surviving soldier. Having taken care of that threat, she hears more the sound of heavy footsteps coming from further down the hall, along with the shouting from outside. Doing the only thing she can do, Texas runs into a room and slams the door behind her. She glances around, spotting a higher up window, and decides to make a jump for it. She just barely reaches the windowsill, grabbing onto it with her fingertips and pulling herself up. She hangs on with one arm, letting it hold up the weight of her body, and bangs on the glass with the butt of her rifle in the other. It shatters right as the door opens, letting in the Insurrectionists she had been trying to get away from. 

That team she left behind would have come in handy right about now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Texas can be a bit intense sometimes... Maybe a little too intense. I might have made her a bit more cruel to people she sees as enemies than she was in the show, but oh well? Scary Tex is Scary.   
> I hope you all enjoyed, leave a kudos if you did and a comment if you have anything to say! I try to respond to everybody, so don't be shy


	36. Breakout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington can't sit idly by as his friends fight to save him

Washington really, really wants that glass of water. You'd have thought that with all the bullet holes, bruises, and broken wrists he's got, he would be focusing on more important things than hydration. Besides, surely a Freelancer like him, with all his training and time spent wandering a desert with Doc and Maine, Wash should be used to being a little thirst by now. It's for that exact reason that he's thinking about how nice that glass of water he asked for would be if the CT's boyfriend would be a decent host and bring him one. It's all too easy to let oneself fall into a cycle of self pity and suffering because of injuries that **hurt** like a son of a bitch, but a trick Wash has found to keep his mind off of the bigger issues is to focus on the smaller ones. If he pretends that his biggest problem is mild dehydration, then all his other problems seem to diminish in importance. If he convinces himself that what he really needs is trail-mix and a capri-sun, then the feverishly warm hole in his side isn't so concerning. Nor is the swelling in his right wrist, or stiffness in his neck and shoulders from hitting that branch. All his issues feel... Smaller, less life threatening and more manageable. Of course, there is the problem of him being acutely aware how long it's been since he had a drink - the waterfall incident does not count. He did his best not to let any water into his suit, let alone mouth - but that's a small price to pay for mentally creating his own version of painkillers. Maybe he should teach a survival course like this to the army back on Chorus. Wash chuckles, imagining how he'd condense all the years of experience he gained about dealing with physical trauma into a slideshow. What would he even call it? _Wash's Guide to Un-Fucking the Situation_?.... That's actually not a bad idea. Maybe he should start planning- 

BANG!!! An explosion goes off somewhere outside of the building, causing Wash to yelp as his heart leaps into his throat. He looks around the empty room for answers, expecting someone to burst in and shoot him any moment, but it doesn't happen. Instead, he hears more things being blown up, the sound almost deafening. Gunshots ring out, people shouting about stopping someone-! His team! Washington grins so much he feels like he could burst, his pulse still loud enough to be pounding in his ears. Those assholes really came for him! That has to be what's going on! Washington pulls on his bonds, his cuffs clanking against the back of his chair and the ropes digging into his arms. Despite the discomfort, he feels a sense of what could only be described as giddy excitement bubbling up from within, pushing the doubt and questioning fear back into the dark pits it came from. His teammates are here to save him, they **came back** for him. Granted, he's not in a whole lot of danger what with the deal he worked out between the Insurrectionist leader, but they didn't know that. Still, his excitement is dampened slighting. That is a lot of gunshots, and while he knows that they can handle themselves, rushing headfirst into a well fortified base is what got him into trouble in the first place. He needs to get out there. 

Washington pulls on his cuffs one more time, gritting his teeth and fighting against the strain on his wrist, but it's not long before he lets his muscles fall slack. They did a good job of securing him in place, there's no way to untie the ropes or unlock the hand cuffs... But maybe he doesn't need to. Wash leans forward, lifting the back legs of the chair off of the ground before kicking off the floor and hurling himself backwards. There's a moment where neither him nor the chair are touching the ground, all legs are up in the air, and then he comes crashing to the floor beneath him. He lands hard, shouting as his busted wrist is crushed beneath the weight of his back, but it does the trick. The chair breaks, and he shimmies himself out of the ropes that were securing himself to it. The handcuffs are still holding his arms in place behind him, but there's not much that he can do about that. For now, Wash backs up against the door, fumbling around with his left hand until he finds the doorknob and twisting. He shoulders the door the rest of the way open, taking off into a sprint as he races down the hall. The corridors are mercifully empty, but outside is a whole different ball game. He can spot at least a dozen Insurrectionists the moment he bursts out of the building, all of them either converging around a building or shooting at some familiar neutral colored sets of armor. Wash sees one of the soldiers start running, and can easily figure out that they're trying to get a better angle for a shot. _Oh no you don't!_ Wash chases after him, getting his chance once the soldier reaches their new cover, leaping into the air, and throwing his legs out in front of him. They barely have time to look at him before his boots slam into their chest, sending them both crashing to the ground after that dropkick. Wash quickly scrambles to his feet, kicking their weapon out of reach and into the open. His legs are swept out from beneath him before he can make another move. The Insurrectionist gets on top of him, a flurry of fists raining down upon his face. He can't raise his arms to block, so he tries to throw them off, his legs scrambling and kicking up the dirt beneath him. He can taste blood, smell it too, their grey armored gloves starting to turn a dark crimson. He turns his head to the side, preparing himself for another blow when they are suddenly thrown off of him. Wash opens his eyes widely, looking back up at where his attacker once was, only to see a round yellow helmet standing above him. Looking up at his teammate fills him with that sense of comfort and joy from before, and despite himself, Washington grins. 

"Maine... I need help up..." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooooooooooly shit! Look at those hits! I just... I don't know what to say! You guys are awesome, you really are. I mean seriously, 5000 hits? I'm beyond amazed. Thank you everyone for reading, and I'll be happy to answer any and all questions you have in the comments! Don't forget to leave a kudo, and please, get a full night's rest.


	37. Blood and Bruises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Maine kicks some ass

"Where's Tex?" Everyone already knows the answer to that, but Maine says it anyways. It'd be pretty hard to see the explosions and utter chaos that suddenly appeared within the base and NOT think that Texas was involved. They start running down the hill, North remaining behind and pulling out his sniper. CT takes the lead, but Maine is hot on her tail as they approach the now unguarded entrance. Most of the Insurrectionists have rushed towards the commotion, making it easy to get into the base unseen even when they're charging straight at it with no cover. CT rushes through the open gate, quickly going behind and around a building in search of Texas. Maine charge past her, throwing himself straight into the fray. He swings his brute shot, plunging the blade up into the nearest soldier's chest; He puts a foot to their chest, using the added leverage to push their corpse off before turning and firing a shot at a group of Insurrectionists gathered behind a warthog. It explodes, sending bits of metal and glass flying into the air. He turns to the side, swinging his weapon in a wide arc toward another soldier. They leap back, just barely dodging as he tries impaling them again. He lunges forward, and they scramble back, raising their gun to shoot him. A burst of red explodes from their helmet, the sniper round going straight through them. Maine gives a quick nod in the general direction of the hill North is positioned on, then gets back to the fight.

His combat style is a mixture of brute force and dirty tactics. He's always been bigger than everyone else his age, larger too, so anyone put in charge of his training focused on improving his greatest advantage. This meant that he sacrificed precision for power, and that he'd never be as fast as someone like CT or Carolina, but it payed off. Maine tanks hit after hit, even feeling a bullet strike his arm without slowing down. There'll be bruises in the morning, but for now, he perseveres, ripping through the enemy. Still, the numbers aren't on their side. Both he and York are getting forced into a corner. CT still hasn't returned, and from the sound of it, she's having trouble of her own on the other side of the base. Maine ducks beneath their cover, putting his now empty brute shot on his back and exchanging it for his magnum. York stands by him, firing at the enemy to keep them at bay. "CT, Texas, where the hell are you two?!" 

"Busy at the moment!" CT sounds winded. 

"We're cornered." Maine looks out of cover, shooting as York ducks back down to reload. He spots one of the soldiers break off from the rest, sprinting toward a group of boxes to his left. Maine turns, levelling his gun with them, but a gray blur flies out of nowhere and crashes into their side. Bullets ricochet off if his cover, so Maine ducks back down. "York, cover me." 

"All right, just don't get shot." York stands up, unloading his clip at the Insurrectionists as Maine charges into the open. He rushes across the battlefield, coming around the boxes and spotting Wash on the ground, his arms pinned beneath his back as a someone lays into his unarmored face.

Maine let's out an enraged growl, grabbing the soldier by the back part of their chest plate and yanking them back. He releases his grip, launching them flying toward their fellow Insurrectionists. When he turns to look back at his wounded teammate, Washington is still on the ground, smiling up at him. It shocks Maine, and he stares down at his friend with surprise. Those somewhat delirious eyes are looking up into his, the crimson blood dripping down either side of those two grey orbs. It's... Unsettling. He sees Wash's chest shake, as if he's laughing silently, and then he speaks. "Maine... I need help up..." 

The reality of the situation comes crashing back around him, the sounds of battle refocusing his attention on the present. Maine quickly picks up his teammate, slinging him over his shoulder as carefully as he can, and making a break for the gates. He shouts into his comms, barreling into a soldier that stands in his way. "I have Washington, everyone get out now!" 

"About time!" 479er's voice has some static as she speaks, indicating her ship might've taken damage. "I was starting to think you guys had gotten yourselves caught too!" 

"Sorry about that, but they were prepared for us." York follows behind him, shooting at anyone on their tail. "How is he?" 

"I'm peachy, York. Just peachy." Pain laces through Wash's voice, but all Maine can focus on right now is getting him out alive. 

"Tex and I are going to buy you guys some time, but you need to haul ass." Says CT "We'll be right behind you." 

"Understood." Maine makes it out of the base, running as fast as he can. He starts up the hill, passing by North on his way up. The purple soldier remains in place, kneeling on the ground with his sniper out as he takes shots at the Insurrectionists still inside the base. He almost stops to grab him too, but North waves him off. With a terse nod, Maine keeps going, tearing through the jungle and towards 479er. He can hear the sounds of gunshots and more explosions as he and York run, and a grin comes across his face. Sounds like CT and Texas are handling their job just fine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! Sorry this is a little late, but I hope you enjoyed it! Leave a kudos if you did, and a comment if you have anything to say. I'll be posting the next chapter in a few days.  
> Also, this song makes writing action scenes waaaay easier: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tSQ6CyyPatM


	38. Two Badasses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> CT finds Texas, and they wreak havoc

CT goes around the corner, leaving York and Maine to fend for themselves. They'll be fine, North has them covered. Texas, on the other hand, doesn't have any backup. She spots the Insurrectionists gathering around a building and runs toward it. If Texas is anywhere in this base, it's got to be where all the heavily armed soldiers are rushing to. As she approaches the back door, she hears several loud bangs, and then the window beside her bursts open. She steps back as Texas comes hurtling out, several bullets hitting the back of her armor. CT rushes over to her, moving to pull her up off of the ground and into cover, but Texas gets up on her own. The dark soldier swears, spinning around to shoot at her. CT dodges to the side as bullets fly, just barely avoiding getting shot. "It's Connecticut! Cease fire!" 

"Son of a bitch!" Texas gets up, her guns remaining aimed at CT for a moment before she lowers them. Her hand goes to her hip, grabbing her last grenade and pulling the pin. She tosses it into the window she just leaped out of and starts sprinting, and CT runs after her. There's a chorus of surprised shouts, and the grenade explodes, sending the shards of glass still stuck to the window frame flying out and onto the grass.

By then, Texas has made it to a warthog, and is pressing herself up against the side of it for cover. CT slides into place beside her, trying to get a look at her back. "You got shot, right?" 

Texas nods. "Yeah, but I'll be fine." 

"I have a can of biofo-" Texas grabs her arm before she can pick up the canister, and they both look at her. Tex's visor is blank, revealing no emotions as always, but her grip is unnaturally tight. CT swallows, feeling intimidated. "What is it? 

"The bullets must have just skimmed my back, I barely even feel them." Texas lets go of her wrist, leaning back against the warthog door. "For now, we have a mission to focus on. I'll take care of myself once we're back in the pelican." 

CT nods, deciding it'd waste too much time if she were to argue. It's not like Texas is really in any danger of bleeding out; If the intel Wash gave her was true, which it has been as far as she knows, then Tex isn't even human. She takes a peek out of her cover, seeing the soldiers that were crowding the building starting to head for the entrance. She's about to comm her team when Maine's voice booms through her helmet's speakers. "I have Washington, everyone get out now!" 

"About time!" 479er's radio crackles, partially obscuring her voice in static. "I was starting to think you guys had gotten yourselves caught too!" 

"Sorry about that, but they were prepared for us." York pauses, and she hears him grunt, as if hitting someone. "How is he?" 

"I'm peachy, York. Just peachy." Wash sounds like absolute shit. His words are slurred, coming out in a pained jumble. 

"Tex and I are going to buy you guys some time, but you need to haul ass." CT reloads her weapon. "We'll be right behind you." 

"Understood." Maine's the last one to speak. 

"So, any bright ideas?" CT looks at Texas, who shakes her head in annoyance and gets up. 

"Cover me." Texas vaults over the side of the warthog and lands in the driver's seat, slamming her foot onto the gas pedal. Its engine roars to life, and she speeds forward, taking CT's cover with her. CT swears, then takes off running as bullets pepper the ground around her. Texas revs the engine, drawing the attention of all the Insurrectionists around her as the vehicle drives toward another warthog. At the last moment, she leaps out, letting it crash into the other car. They both explode, sending a plume of smoke into the air as shrapnel flies through the air. CT immediately shoots near the Insurrectionists, drawing them out of their surprise and making them scatter in an attempt to not get hit. She misses all of them on purpose, but makes sure that there's several close calls. Texas runs past her, not bothering to miss, and kills two soldiers by the time CT's turned around to follow her. They sprint toward the exit, only to find themselves cut off by all of the Insurrectionists who're running toward their distraction. CT goes left, and Texas goes right, flanking the large group and unleashing a rain of bullets down on them. Several soldiers drop, the bullets ripping into them and hopefully killing them painlessly. They only take seconds to retaliate, returning fire, and CT dives to the ground to avoid being shot. She rolls over, almost bumping into a mongoose that was hidden beneath some tarps. 

"Texas, on me!" CT rips the coverings off, getting into the seat and starting it up. She dives forward, holding her arm out as she passes Texas, who grabs onto her. Her body gets yanked back, but she keeps her grip on the wheel and slings Texas into the seat behind her. Letting go of Tex, CT puts both hands on the controls and speeds up, flying out of the entrance. North fires off a few more shots to cover them before getting up, running into the jungle. CT follows after him, dodging and weaving between the trees. She slows down once at his side, matching his pace. "Where's the others?" 

"They went ahead with Wash!" CT appears beside North, his projected body not moving as his hologram speeds through the air beside North. "He looked pretty beat up.. Do you think-?" 

"It doesn't matter what we think, wondering about what happened will just distract you from the mission." Texas looks his way, her voice both cold and sympathetic. "All you can do is focus on what's in the present, and worry later, got it?" 

Theta nods before he disappears, and North gives her a quiet glance. CT doesn't know what he's thinking, nor does she really care right now. They go through the jungle as fast as they can without completely leaving North behind, and she can see Maine's white armor through the trees just as the roar of the pelican's engines reaches her. She switches to her comms. "479er, what's your situation?" 

"Probably not much worse than yours, so don't expect a smooth pick up." The leaves start to ripple as 479er flies overhead of Maine, York, and Wash, the pelican being pursued by several more flying vehicles. 

"Leave it to me." Texas reaches over to North, pulling the sniper off of his back. She stands up on the mongoose and starts shooting at the glass of the other ships. The windshield of a hornet cracks, and it starts to spin out of control, crashing into another one. They both explode, sending a small shockwave through the jungle that almost knocks them down, but Texas leans into it and braces for the impact. 479er's pelican flies lower, almost brushing the treetops, and the back door opens. A rope is thrown out of it, and York hops onto it first, climbing up. Maine lowers his head, saying something to Wash before he grabs onto the rope, balancing the smaller soldier on his shoulder as he starts the climb. Texas keeps shooting, making it so that the other ships have to stay at a distance or risk getting taken out by her. 479er slows down slightly, just enough so that she's flying a little ahead of those who are still on the ground. North is the next one to start the climb, shimmying up the rope quicker than the other two. Texas waits till York is at the top before she puts the sniper onto her back, jumping from the mongoose to the rope and beginning the climb. 479er has to swerve to the side as the ships close in again, the rope swaying back and forth precariously in front of CT. She stands up, keeping one hand on the Mongoose's controls and the other reaching out in front of her. It waves from side to side, just out of reach each time she tries to grab it. York has started providing cover fire as Maine hefts Wash into the pelican, and CT takes advantage of this. She crouches for a moment, then springs forward, leaping off of the mongoose. Her hands close around the rope, and it swings forward from her weight, almost hitting her against a tree. 

"I'm on!" CT clings to it as the pelican pulls up, the ground getting further and further beneath her. She puts on hand before the other, leaves and branches smacking against her body as she climbs up. A spray of bullets almost hits her, but 479er turns the ship to the side, making the rope swing wildly about as she dodges. CT slips but doesn't fall, refusing to let go and create a cause for a second rescue mission, and drags herself up the rope. Maine grabs her arm once she's at the top, pulling her into the safety of the ship and hitting the button on the door. She hurries to the cockpit, looking inside. "Niner, we're all here!" 

"Buckle up, then! We're getting out of here!" 479er yanks the controls back, sending the pelican almost straight up. Everyone struggles to maintain their balance, throwing themselves into a seat and putting on the safety harnesses. Wash is already in one, having been put there before CT even got into the ship. The pelican shakes as it rockets upward, and there's an orange glow coming from the flames surrounding the cockpit's windshield. CT grips the harness, pressing her head back against the seat. She looks to the side and sees Wash in a similar position as her, only he has a hand clamped over his mouth. She releases the grip of the straps in one hand, placing it on his shoulder before looking ahead into the center of the pelican. The shaking makes it hard to focus on anything really, so she closes her eyes and waits, and then they suddenly break through the atmosphere and into the space above. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp.... So much for consistent uploads. I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I'll try to post a new one within two days. Stay awesome, leave a comment if you have any questions or wanna say anything, and have a wonderful day.


	39. Physical Pain is Manageable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flight back is far from easy

The shaking stops, leaving Washington's ears ringing from the suddenness of it all. He gags quietly, his hand still clamped over his mouth as he forces the vomit back down his throat. CT slowly releases his shoulder, letting out a breath of relief. "Wash, are you all right?" 

He shakes his head, but mumbles that he's okay anyways. York unstraps his harness, standing up and quickly going to his side as North goes into the cockpit to retrieve a first aid kit. "Hey, could you look at me real quick? I need to check something." 

"I don't have a concussion," Wash lifts his head, slowly lowering his hand from his face as his eyes meet York. The world seems to swim around him, and he blinks his eyes a few times to make them focus. He uses his good hand to push York's shoulder away from him. "but I'm pretty sure Maine got hurt while carrying me. You should check on him." 

York remains where he is. "Wash, you look like shit." 

Washington chuckles quietly. "Harsh, but I guess that's fair." 

York's hands go to the side of his head, gingerly feeling Wash's scalp. The blonde soldier winces, and the hands are pulled away. North exits the cockpit and quickly walks over, holding a small box in one hand. "How is he?" 

Delta appears beside York, his hands folded behind his back similarly to how the Director stands when he's listing details about an upcoming mission. Just another one of the many traits that was passed onto the AI's, he supposes. "Agent Washington has sustained several injuries, the most worrisome being a bullet wound in the left side of his abdomen, and possibly a minor concussion. His right wrist also appears to be swollen, but further investigation is needed to determine the cause." 

"Yeah, it's broken." Wash glances at his arm, slowly moving his fingers to test it. "I landed on it wrong when I got shot out of the pelican." 

York moves out of the way, letting North take his place. "Wash, I know I told you that my blind eye was going to be a hit with the ladies, but that wasn't an invitation for you to go get yourself fucked up too." 

Wash laughs, his face tightening into a grimace as pain shoots through him, but he tries to force a smile around it. "Heh, yeah.. You were always good at making me laugh, you know that?" 

"Were?" York tilts his head to the side in confusion and slight worry, but he keeps a jovial tone. "I'm still hilarious, asshole." 

Washington frowns softly, watching as North starts rifling through the med kit. "I know..." 

North takes a canister of biofoam out of it, then looks at Wash. "This is gonna hurt like a son of a bitch, but it'll help." 

"Then let's get it over with." Wash closes his eyes, his good hand finding the straps of his harness again. The foam is sprayed into the reopened wound on his stomach, and the area around it suddenly ignites with fire. Wash jolts, his hand tightening its grip and a strangled cry of pain getting caught in his throat. He inhales sharply, pressing his head back against the seat and groans. It's been a while since he's had to be treated with biofoam, and he certainly hasn't missed it. The sensation of a million papercuts starts to subside, going away slower than it came and being replaced with numbness. He thinks he hears Maine growl, probably going through the same exact thing for that gunshot on his arm. York's hand finds his shoulder, lightly squeezing it to comfort him. North goes to put away the canister, but Washington speaks up. "You have to do the other side now." 

"What?" North looks up at him, confusion in his voice. 

"When I was shot, the bullet went through my back" Wash sees his teammate tense with worry, so he quickly throws out the next sentence. "The Insurrectionists patched me up, but I think I ripped the stitches open while escaping." 

"Son of a bitch," North starts undoing the harness, his steady hands lifting it from Wash and helping his teammate lean forward. Wash can hear him sigh with frustration. "Yeah, you're bleeding all over the seat." 

"479er's gonna kill me." Washington's attempt at humor falls flat, the others sharing uneasy glances. 

Texas, who has been quietly standing a ways away from everyone with her arms folded over her chest up until this point, decides to speak up. "You were patched up by the Insurrectionists. Why?" 

"Isn't it obvious?" CT turns away from Maine to come to his rescue, holding a second canister. "You can't get any information out of a dead prisoner." 

"Yeah, their hospitality was- Fuck!" Wash tenses as North applies the biofoam to his lower back, the pain washing over him in gradually decreasing waves. 

York's hand squeezes his shoulder again, helping to steady him. "Breathe in, Wash. I know it hurts, but North is almost done." 

"Yeah, you're doing great." North nods, gently helping him back into a seating position.

Wash frowns softly as he does, glancing around at his teammates. It's not that he doesn't appreciate all the help they're giving him, but it's not like he needs to be coddled right now either. He kinda wishes one of them would ridicule him for getting captured in the first place, and tell him that _ooh, the big bad Freelancer got caught! After all that training you made us do too. Maybe you should be the one to run laps and-_ Wash's train of thought derails, and he quickly looks away from his teammates. They're not the reds and blues, they're not the Chorus soldiers, they're the mother fucking Freelancers. Badasses, soldiers, and **not** the people who know him as a cockroach that refuses to die. Wash lifts his good hand, placing it over his face and lightly pinching the bridge of his nose. What can he even do to get his life back on track? Even if he kills the Director and ends Project Freelancer for good, things are never going to be the same. In some ways, that's good; The Freelancers will still be alive, the reds and blues don't need to suffer through all the shit he puts them through, and the AI's won't get erased. Still, that means he won't meet his new team the same way he did before. Will they accept him this time? How is he even going to approach them? It's not like he can just walk up and tell them that he's a friend of theirs from the future who went back in time, fucked up some shit, and is here to take his place in their group again.... Can he? It's hard to know what they will and won't believe. Maybe he's overestimating things, and it'll all turn out fine. Well, not all of it. There's still Chorus to think about, what with their civil war and everything. He could save a lot of lives by exposing what Charon Industry is doing to them, but how would he do that? Washington shakes his head. He needs to deal with one problem at a time, starting with Project Freelancer... But after that comes his team. He needs them, each and every single one of those idiots, and the first step to getting back his new team is making sure the old one has his back, which they can only do if they know the truth. 

Wash inhales slowly, then looks at North. "I'm from the future." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How about that ending, huh? It kinda came out of the blue, I felt like now was the time for Washington to reveal everything. After all, they did just rescue his life, he's had a difficult day, and he may or may not have a teensy tiny little concussion! So, all of that mixed into him missing his Blood Gulch Gang made him a bit more open than he probably should have been.   
> Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!


	40. To Reveal the Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone has a reasonably difficult time accepting Wash's explanations, but that's not the only problem he faces on the ride back to the MOI.

There comes a time in most long lasting relationships where one person will be worried about the other. This concern could stem from anything, really; A high fever, an out of character comment, an injury, poor life decisions, ect. All it really takes is for one of the people in said relationship to notice that something isn't quite right with the other, and it grows from there. It just so happens that North's concern has been a constant problem that he's been trying to ignore for the sake of his friend's personal boundaries. However, with Washington being heavily injured, taken hostage, abandoned, and now talking nonsense added to the change in behavior and distant interactions, North can't ignore it any longer. He frowns, looking Washington dead in the eye as he speaks. "No, Wash. No you're not." 

"Yes I am." Wash looks from him to the others, his hazy eyes filled with a determination that could rival Carolina's as he tries to find someone who will side with him. "I'm from the future."

"Wash, um... Maybe leave humor to me?" York shifts, folding his arms over his chest as he stares down at him with worry. 

"I'm not joking." Washington frowns thoughtfully. "How should I put this...? Like I said, I'm from the future. Project Freelancer doesn't exist anymore, it ended once the Director's illegal activity was revealed. After it fell, I joined a group of simulation troopers called the reds and the blues, which eventually included Carolina. We did a lot of stuff together, most of which involved ending the remnants of project Freelancer. Then we crashed on a planet called Chorus, which was abandoned and forgotten about by the UNSC. The people who lived there ended up in a civil war waged between the New Republic and the Federal Army of Chorus, who would have had peace if they weren't being manipulated by Charon industries. Now, I know this all sounds insane, but we can save hundreds if not thousands of lives if we can get a head start on this before it becomes a problem so.... You're all looking at me like I'm crazy."

"This is worse than just a minor concussion." CT steps closer, having finished using the biofoam on Maine. She folds her arms over her chest as she peers down at Wash, then shakes her head. "Niner, step on it. Wash really needs a visit to the infirmary." 

479er glances back at them, "One, I'm flying as fast as I can. Two, doesn't York have a healing unit?" 

Delta looks toward the cockpit and nods. "Correct. Agent York has the healing unit armor enhancement. Might I suggest allowing agent Washington to wear your armor, and temporarily put me into his implants so that I can run-" 

"Fuck no!" Washington immediately clamps a hand over the back of his neck, sitting up and leaning into the seat to further protect his implants. 

North furrows his brows, feeling Theta flare up with worry. _Is he okay?_

 _I don't know, but we'll figure this out._ North gently places a hand on Washington's arm, trying to gently lower it down to the seat. "Wash, you're hurt-"

"I'll be fine with just going to the med bay." Wash pushes his hand away, his voice sounding almost defensive. "Really, I don't need the healing unit." 

"I don't see what the big deal is." Texas watches him closely, as if sizing him up under new light. "You're borrowing his equipment, it's not like we're asking you to go bungee jumping without a chord." 

"His equipment, and his AI!" Wash looks at her, his whole body tense as he tries to come up with an excuse. "That's.... It's against the rules! We could all get in a lot of trouble for that!" 

"Wash, we're not here on the Director's orders." York removes his helmet, setting it down on the seat beside him. "We're already breaking a ton of rules as it is, what's a couple more?" 

"Disregarding another direct order and doing an impromptu field implantation with an AI will likely result in-"

"Not helping, D." York waves his hand dismissively, then starts taking off the rest of his armor. 

Washington watches him closely, looking more and more nervous by the second. North feels a pit of worry start forming in his stomach, and he clears his throat. This gets Wash's attention, who turns and looks at him. "What?" 

"Wash... Did the Insurrectionists do something to your implants?" North leans a little closer to him, putting a hand back onto his friend's arm but not trying to pull it away from the back of his neck this time. 

"What...? No! No, they didn't do anything like that." Wash shakes his head, then winces and decides against it. "I mean, I got kicked around a little, but I'm fine." 

Maine's voice is a low, angry rumble. "Clearly it was more than a little." 

"I'm with Maine on this one, rookie. You look like shit." York takes off yet another piece of his armor, almost entirely stripped down to just his jumpsuit. "At least let Delta run the healing unit for a few minutes and see if there's anything that he can fix, okay?" 

"No! Look, I know you don't believe me, but I-!...." Washington trails off, looking back at his lap as that thoughtful expression returns. 

"Wash?" North gently squeezes his arm. 

"I'm okay... I'm fine." He can't tell if Washington is talking to the others, or himself. He breathes in slowly, as if steeling himself for whatever comes next, then looks at York. "Okay. I'll borrow Delta, but only for a few minutes." 

Theta shifts within North's mind, his own worry adding itself into what North already has. _I don't know about this..._

_It'll be okay, Delta can help Wash._

_I know that, I just..._

North sighs quietly, watching as York starts helping Washington into his armor. _You just what?_

Theta is quiet for a moment, as if considering what to say. North can feel him looking through his eyes, focused on Wash too. It takes a moment, but he speaks. _Wash looks scared._

As he watches Washington latch the armor into place, North has to agree with him. There's a hesitation to his movements, a fearful reluctance that he seems to be fighting against. Despite this, he soldiers on, not protesting any further. If this wasn't such a dire situation, North would have told Wash that he didn't need to go through with it. However, with him having a head injury bad enough to make him think he travelled through the future... Well, there's just no backing out of it. North steps back, shaking his head. 

_You're right, Theta. He's terrified._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeesh. Had I've known that it would take me a few days to make this chapter, I wouldn't have ended the other one on a cliff hanger. So yeah, sorry about that, but I hoped you enjoyed this one!


	41. Memory is the Key

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delta enters Washington's mind

Delta wasn't an emotional AI, but as he stared at Washington and watched the beaten agent shakily put on York's armor, he couldn't help but feel worried. The concern stemmed from him wondering how bad the injuries actually were, and his own worry about what he'd find once he was transferred. Though there is determination in his grey eyes, agent Washington was also afraid, but Delta couldn't figure out _why._ It was an enigma that had plagued his mind, a puzzle that neither he nor York could solve without taking a closer look, but that's what concerned him. Delta almost didn't want to go into Wash's head, knowing full well that it'd be a chaotic and confusing mess at best, and a hellscape of trauma from the ordeal he just went through at worst. It doesn't look like the Insurrectionists tortured him, but running for his life through a jungle full of enemies couldn't have been easy. Thus, he made sure that he was prepared for anything. If he found that Washington's mind was damaged, then he'd do his best to fix it, be it through the use of the healing unit or by Delta internally fixing him. 

"Hey D, are you ready?" Agent York has finished helping agent Washington into his armor, and steps back to give him space. 

_Yes, I am._ Delta can't manifest a hologram without a suit to project it out of, so he speaks privately to York. _However, there is cause for concern. It seems like the extent of the head injury is far worse than I originally calculated, considering his hallucinogetic state, and it's likely that-_

"Nope, no bad news unless if it's certain." York reaches up, his fingers lightly brushing the back of his implants. His voice is playful, but there's an underlying tone of nervousness to it. "I only want to hear if you're sure about something, and I mean 100% sure. 

Delta feels like arguing back, but he decided against it. Agent York was a naturally relaxed and care free man by nature, but he was slipping. York had never once asked Delta to go offline, let alone remove him entirely. That's what made him so worried, the fact that he'd be taking it out. So, for just this once, Delta decided against presenting all the facts. _Agent Washington is a strong soldier, and while the situation is less than ideal, he'll be fine._

 _…. Thanks, D._ York gave him enough time to withdraw back into the AI chip before he removed it.

The disconnect was felt the moment Delta was pulled from the implants. The feeling of York's mind surrounding him vanished, and he could only liken the sensation as something akin to having all the air sucked out of the room you're standing within, only you're the one being removed from the room while the air remains in place. He was ripped from the atmosphere that he had grown so accustomed to, and felt nothing but the cold confines of the chip holding him in place. It was somehow more roomy than York's mind, having just lines of code instead of the thoughts and emotions that would have flitted past him in York's head. Yet despite this, Delta couldn't help but feel claustrophobic. It made no sense given that he had more space without York's mind pressed up against his, but still, he felt like the AI chip was a million times too small for him compared to the endless expanse that was the human brain. Delta pressed against the walls of 1's and 0's, trying to expand his home, but they held firm against his attempts. He pulled back, steadying himself as he felt the chip start to reconnect with another set of implants. The metaphorical door between his code and agent Washington's mind was opened, and he stepped inside. 

He was falling. Or at least, it felt like he was. Pieces of Washington's psyche whipped past him in a torrent of unimaginable force, colliding with the outer strands of his programming. Bits of code were smashed into, nearly disintegrating from the force. He tried to latch onto one of the torpedoing memories, but it sped right through his grasp, leaving him with the sensation of snow and adrenaline where it had touched. Another recollection burst through him, this one leaving a distinct image of "break room after a long mission". Delta reared back, but he couldn't escape the mental storm. Even if he were to try and take shelter back inside of his AI chip, he wouldn't have had a clue about how to get back to it. That, and it would only be a matter of time before this chaos found its way into there too. There was no way to flee from this; He had to fix it. Delta's programming flared out, strands of code spreading across the mindscape before weaving itself back together, intertwining with one as he created a net. With each memory he caught, he stole hints of of it and combined it with his own, taking only the barest basics of what it was made from and making it his own. What he saw, what he heard and felt.... It was impossible. Feelings of grief at the loss of agent Connecticut, hollow emptiness as he stared down at the corpses of agents York and North, the weight of a pistol feeling far heavier than it ever had as he pointed it at agent Carolina to protect people who he had harmed, a deep sense of longing and confusion as Caboose told him that they were friends, frustration at yet another one of red team's antics, panicked concern as he dug through the wreckage of a ship to search for his team, cold anger and burning pain as he fought the mercenaries, reliving moments form the past that had felt all too familiar to what originally happened yet far too alien for it to seem real....

Delta had never gone through anything like this. He didn't know most of the people that he caught glimpses of, but Washington did. He could feel their significance, the bond that had been forged between each of them regardless of it was a simple passing in Armonia or a friendship that had stood the test of life-or-death situations. He even occasionally heard their names, yet he couldn't put them to any of the colors that were etching themselves into his vision. He started to reel the net back in, having restrained most of the storm within it. It tried to rear back against him, a tug of defiance and anger that threatened to rip the woven coding apart, but Delta only tightened his grip. He followed the tugging, and at the end of it was Washington's subconscious. Delta drifted closer to it, but he was unsure of what to say when he had arrived, so he merely released the net and sat down. The memories washed out of his loosened hold, but they moved with less urgency and panicked, returning to their corners of the mind peaceably like birds migrating across the sky. He and Washington sit there quietly in silence, Delta at a loss for words. It only takes a moment for the agent to recover himself, though. 

"So...." Washington's subconscious pulsed, lightly pushing against Delta. "Do you believe me now?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So, yes, this is a little different than what the chapters normally consist of and quite possibly super confusing. If you guys have any questions, I'll gladly answer them in the comments below. Now, with that out of the way, I'm actually really proud about this update! It's pretty easy to guess at what humans feel when they experience implantation, but there's not enough information about what it's like for the AI's so I had to get a little creative. I hope I didn't dip too far into the realm of "mind magic" or whatever this would be called, and I hoped you guys enjoyed!


	42. A Friendly Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delta and Washington discuss some things

Washington sits in the field of his mind. Memories bloom around him through the flowers, his thoughts creating a breeze that blows away their petals and sends them dancing through the air. The chaos of the storm has subsided, his panic being calmed and organized by Delta. The AI drifts toward him, taking a seat at his side, and says nothing. They sit like that for a moment, watching as his mind ripples warmly with each new thought. It's.... Calmer than he would have expected, though he supposes that makes sense. This was the eye of the hurricane, a place of peace when the world around it was in turmoil. A place where his subconscious had retreated to when he felt pressure in his implants, attempting to hide itself from the horrors that he had come to associate with AI's within him. Still, Delta had found him anyways, following a path that had led him through the whirlwind of memories and to here. Washington might as well say something. After all, it'd be a waste if they just sat there quietly and nothing became of the impromptu implantation. 

"So...." Washington shifted, pulling his attention away from his surroundings and setting his sights on Delta. He felt the direction of the wind change too, but he paid it no mind. "Do you believe me now?" 

Within his brain, Delta appeared identical to the Director. There were a few differences, the fact that he was a green and armored hologram being one of them, but the resemblance was uncanny. He was helmetless, exposing the face that had hid beneath the visor this whole time. Washington wasn't sure if this was a conscious decision from Delta or, like the appearance of his mindscape, he had changed the appearance of his friend. Delta furrowed his brows, tilting his head forward slightly in thought. While he physically looked like Leonard Church, his body language was anything but that. He had an inquisitive, knowledgeable look to him, one that said he either had all the answers or that he was going to find them very soon. Despite this, Washington could hear a slight uncertainty in Delta's voice when he spoke. "I do. Despite all the previous evidence suggesting otherwise, it would appear that you've somehow traveled through time." 

"Future cubes." Washington looked down, his hand plucking idly at the grass beneath him. "I was on a mission for Kimball. She wanted me to lead a group of soldiers on a-"

"-transport mission, but the mercenaries intervened. You managed to get your team to safety, but you were caught in the crossfire, and sent back to the past when the future cubes exploded." He could feel Delta prodding at his mind, causing light tremors to ripple over the field. 

"Yeah.... That's what happened." Wash shakes his head, brushing off the sensation. "I need your help, D."

Delta leans forward slightly, a surprisingly empathetic gesture for someone who isn't human. "How can I be of assistance?" 

"Well, you're always good at figuring things out, right?" Washington tugged a piece of grass out of the ground, rolling it around in his fingertips. "I was hoping you could tell me what to do next, since my plans have been accomplishing pretty much nothing so far."

"You're in contact with an Insurrectionist double agent and the Alpha, agent Washington." Delta frowns softly. "I'd say that's more than _nothing_." 

The corners of Washington's mouth twitch upwards slightly, but he doesn't quite smile. "Yeah, I suppose you're right. Still, I'd like to be doing more." 

"Agreed." Delta looks over the expanse of his mind, and Washington can feel as lines of code start rooting around, skimming his memories for useful information. He forces himself to relax, or at the very least step down from pushing back against the unwanted intrusion. "Thank you."

"What? Oh," Wash glances over at him, then returns his attention to the ground, dropping the blade of grass and exchanging it with another. "don't mention it." 

Delta continues his search, letting Washington tear at the grass uncomfortably. It's less than a minute before he opens his mouth, speaking his plan. "You were on the right track of informing the other agents; Though your delivery could have been altered, we need them to know what they're getting into. After I finish running York's armor enhancement, I'll convince the others that you weren't experiencing any delusions and that you told them the truth. After securing their allegiance, we'll return to the Mother of Invention. The Director will likely place you in the medbay where he can easily keep surveillance on you, so York and I will handle confronting Sigma and Carolina." 

Washington nods. It's a solid plan, there's just one problem. "What should I do in the meantime?" 

"You, agent Washington, will be resting." 

"I was afraid you'd say that." Wash sighs, his shoulders slumping. 

Delta stares at him for a moment, his lips pursing ever so slightly before he speaks. "You've been at the forefront of this battle for far too long. If the Director is going to force you to do nothing, then you might as well take advantage of the situation. It'd be best to lay low and recover. If not for your own health, than for the sake of the mission."

"I know you're right," Washington waves a dismissive hand between them, "but that doesn't mean I agree with it." 

"An illogical sentiment, but it's noted." Delta reaches over, placing a hand on Wash's arm. "You should start your break now, agent Washington. I'll handle the rest." 

Wash can feel his jaw muscles trying to pull into a stretch, but he holds off on it. "I don't know... Are you sure you can handle convincing them alone? Charisma isn't exactly your strong suit." 

"It isn't yours either, and no, inspirational speeches don't count." 

Washington chuckles softly, then blinks his eyes a couple times as they start to droop. "You're sure? I know several people who'd disagree with you." 

"Yes, several people who are relying on you to be well rested and taken care of." Delta lightly pushes on his shoulder, easing him back so that he's laying on the ground. "If you aren't, then it puts their lives at risk." 

"You drive a hard bargain, but... Fine." Washington stretches slightly, allowing himself to yawn before he relaxes back into the grass. "But you'll wake me up if you need my help... Right?" 

Delta nods. "Of course, agent Washington." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally, he has a linear strategy! I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, because I know I did. The next one should be out in a couple days. If you have any questions or just want to say something, feel free to leave a comment. I absolutely love reading and responding to them no matter what size they are. If you haven't already, I'd appreciate it if you left a kudos or shared this with a friend.  
> Anyways, now that the shameless self promotion is over, I suppose I should head to bed. Good night if it's night where you are, good morning/afternoon if it isn't, and I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day


	43. Veracity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Delta tries his best to convince the Freelancers that no, Washington is not crazy.

Washington's mindscape slowly starts to dim, the light around them dissolving and the details of the field becoming hazy. The wind of thought that blows through the grass slows down, becoming a barely perceptible breeze. Wash's body, or his mental projection of it, doesn't seem to change. He stays just as detailed as he was before he fell asleep even as his surroundings change. Delta watches silently, letting him get settled into sleep before he begins running the healing unit. He focuses on the larger injuries first since they're the largest concern, leaving the surface damage like bruises and cuts for later. Once he's started the healing unit's program, he lets it run in the background. For now, he more pressing matters to deal with. 

Delta reappears in the pelican, placing his hologram in front of Washington. His green glow draws the eyes of the other Freelancers, and he sees CT stop pacing. She quickly turns his way, her expression serious and full of concern. "Well? Is he going to be okay?" 

Delta nods. "Agent Washington will make a full recovery." 

"Thank God," York runs a hand through his hair, smoothing it back. He looks a little smaller than the rest without his armor, but not any less comfortable or confident. Delta knows that Washington would envy him for that; the Freelancer has several memories where being in armor made him feel stronger, and being without a helmet made him anxious. The occurrences seem to thin out after blue team brought him back to Valhalla, but they're still there. 

` Texas is still leaning on the wall by the cockpit, her arms folded across her chest. "So what exactly is wrong with him? Does he have brain damage?" 

Delta takes a second to think, choosing his next words carefully. "Agent Washington is badly hurt, but his cranial injuries aren't extensive. While he did seem unfocused earlier, this wasn't due to a concussion. Rather it was blood loss that caused his unusual behavior." 

"Does the blood loss include him thinking he's a space travelling badass?" CT adopts a similar stance to Texas', though hers is far less aloof. She folds her arms over her chest, her expression hardening with doubt. 

"No." Delta looks back at Wash. It's odd to see him in York's armor, but he brushes the strangeness aside. "Agent Washington was in a sound state of mind when he admitted that."

"Wait, what?" North, who was previously focused on a silent conversation with Theta, brings his full attention to the others. "He was 'in a sound state of mind'? How's that even possible?" 

"Yeah, I need you to run that by me again, D." York looks perplexed, his brows knit with confusion. "He said he time travelled, and that Project Freelancer was destroyed? That doesn't sound like someone without a concussion to me." 

"Agent Washington does not have a concussion." Delta speaks quickly, hoping that nobody will interrupt him. "I don't have any concrete evidence that I could share with you, but I do have his memories. They're hard to access, but perhaps I can convince you with them." 

He sees CT stiffen, her muscles tightening with distress. Texas scoffs, shaking her head. "Okay then, prove it." 

"Agent Texas, I don't intend on disturbing you, but I fear that it is unavoidable." He sees her head tilt in curiosity, no doubt wondering what he could possibly say that would upset her, so he continues speaking. "Do you remember taking off your helmet since you've arrived at project Freelancer?" 

It's her turn to look uncomfortable. She pauses, mulling the question over for a moment. The silence is nearly deafening as everyone waits. When she finally speaks, it's short, "No." 

"How about using the restroom?" Delta waits again, and when she doesn't answer, he talks more. "Did you sleep, agent Texas? Did you eat anything? Does your pain feel real, or like a simulat-?"

**BANG**

Her fist slams into the pelican's wall, leaving a dent. 479er shouts back "Hey! The fuck are you guys doing back there?!" 

Texas doesn't answer her. Instead, she walks into the cockpit, angrily pressing the button that shuts the door. The others sit in a stunned silence, then CT slowly turns back toward him. "What was all of that?" 

"Agent Washington already presented you with his evidence, which laid the groundwork for your alliance." Delta again sees her stiffen, and understandably so. She's afraid of being ousted. 

Maine tilts his head, his featureless helmet looking intimidatingly in her direction. "What alliance?" 

"Agent Washington and agent Connecticut made a deal. If he supplied her with information that proved its corruption, she would help him destroy Project Freelancer." Delta watches as her shoulders slowly lower. It was _just_ detailed enough to make the others trust him, but vague enough to protect her secrets. That, and it was the truth. "He gave her the information, but he never had any evidence of where he got it from. He'd tell her a few days in advance who the next candidate for an implantation would be, the AI's name, and even their personality. He also knew about a few missions before the Director told us about them, detailing what the compounds would look like and what they could expect once inside. Agent Washington always seemed to just _know_ these things, not once revealing his sources." 

York frowns softly, looking at her. "CT, is that true?" 

Her helmet is tilted downward in thought, but she lifts it when he says her name. ".... Yes. After Wash had his giggle attack in front of the Director, he and I had a talk. He admitted that he knew Project Freelancer was corrupt, and that he needed help taking it down. Like Delta said, he always seemed to know things, but I never knew how. I always assumed that he somehow had access to secret files and was feeding me the stuff he read on there.... And I still do. There's no way in hell that he's a time traveler." 

Delta turns away from her, knowing he can't sway her mind yet. "York, you occasionally go drinking with agent Illinois. Before you got me, he told you what he wanted out of life after he was done with Project Freelancer. He dreamed of a planet long island chain, a waterside shack, with a bar full of-"

"-of spiced rum, and a tiny red sail boat..." York trails off, looking over at agent Washington with even more confusion. "How could he have possibly known about that? He wasn't even there." 

"Because agent Carolina shared it with him while they were drinking on Chorus. She mentioned how you and Illinois used to do something similar, to which he said he never got to know the other agent outside of the training room and shared the story." Delta looks to North, and finds almost nothing that he could use as evidence. 

While he's thinking, CT shakes her head. "There's no way that Carolina and Wash would end up as drinking buddies in the future. She's too ambitious for downtime, it just doesn't work." 

Delta can tell that she's deflecting from the original topic, trying to steer their focus toward how absurd it sounds rather than the evidence that he's presenting. Whether it's out of self preservation or just denial, it could still harm his case. "Agent Washington and agent Carolina are the only known survivors of Project Freelancer in their timeline. This, and their new group, allowed them to connect with one another and learn to relax." 

"Only survivors?" Maine stands up, walking over to Delta's hologram. "How?" 

"Yeah, what happened?" York frowns, looking nervous. 

"You can't be serious." CT looks around the pelican incredulously. "You're seriously falling for this bullshit?" 

Delta sighs. "I assure you, agent Washington was ri-"

"He's not from the future!" CT throws up her hands in exasperation, turning her attention to North. "Look, these two might have gone nuts, but you have to be with me on this. There's no way that Wash is a time traveler."

North sits there for a moment, staring quietly at Wash. He looks at Theta, and when his AI shrugs, he looks back at Delta. "What did Wash remember about me?" 

"I can't believe this shit." CT shakes her head. 

"I think we should let Delta finish." North leans back slowly. "What did he learn from talking to the future me?" 

"You enjoy drinking hot chocolate regardless of the season. Your father used to make it for you when you were younger since it would help you fall asleep. Agent Washington found out after the sarcophagus mission." Delta points at him. "In the original timeline, agent Maine was shot multiple times in the throat while going after the briefcase. Wash was worried, and to help him relax, you made him the hot chocolate and told him about how your dad used to make it for you. I believe your exact words were 'Dad was great at getting South and I to bed. He had his own trick for her, but mine was a cup of cocoa.'. After that, you sat down in the break room and talked about what you thought was in the sarcophagus."

North nods slowly. "Yeah, that sounds about right." 

"You're serious?" CT has calmed down slightly, or at least seems less anxious. She shakes her head, as if disappointed. "Fine. I don't believe it, but if you've all fallen for this, then fine. I'm not going to tell the Director about it, he'd just fuck things up even more." 

"Speaking of the Director, what exactly was he doing?" York looks at Delta, "And does it have anything to do with why we're dead in Wash's time?" 

Delta nods, and begins to explain everything. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! I'm not dead!!  
> Sorry about the long wait you guys, I got writer's block and I didn't feel like hammering through it to produce a half-decent chapter, so I decided a week or two would be an acceptable break. My "vacation" lasted longer than that because of some personal problems, but hey, I'm glad I waited otherwise the chapter would have been severely lacking in quality.  
> I know that Carolina technically shared the whole Illinois story with Wash AFTER the Chorus Trilogy (Season 15, episode 10 if you're curious), and the whole hot chocolate thing isn't existent anywhere, but I figured I'd tweak canon a bit to suit my needs. I hope you all enjoyed regardless of that!  
> Comments are amazing, kudos are gifts, and criticism is welcome. Bye!


	44. Brief Respite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After their talk with Delta, the others have some questions for Washington.

Washington can feel the stiff mattress him, hear the ambient sounds of people in the room, and smell that clinical freshness of the med bay before he's fully conscious. He's hit with a sense of deja vu, his mind being pulled back to when he woke up here after the sarcophagus mission. He was uncertain, afraid even, but his old friends were there at his side. Wash can't quite shake away the feeling of familiar anxiousness that has begun to arise, urging him to keep pretending he's asleep. There is so many things that could have gone wrong while he rested. The others could have told the Director, who would have sent him away at the first chance he got. For all Wash knows, he could be laying in the infirmary of a distant prison ship, being monitored so that he could be sent into a meeting with the Counselor. Once there, he'd be metaphorically poked and prodded for answers, asked endless seemingly innocent questions until they're satisfied enough to throw him back into a cell. It's the Epsilon incident all over again. A different moment of weakness, but the same outcome. 

Wash can feel his heart start to beat faster at the thought, hear the monitor beep faster and the other people in the room go silent. He takes a deep breath in and holds it, picturing his safe place. He's in the kitchen of blue base, doesn't really matter which canyon it's in. Valhalla, Blood Gulch, the crash site, it's all the same so long as the same people are there. Caboose is to his left, trying to use the microwave. If this was real, he'd panic. It's a rule of thumb to never let Caboose cook, but since he's imagining things, it _should_ be safe enough. To his right is Tucker, who's sharing a beer with Grif. Simmons is behind them, probably lecturing them about early drinking. Sarge is in the doorway, hollering something along the lines of "fraternizing with the enemy" and "dirty blues". Doc and Donut are at the table eating bagels and talking about who knows what, and Carolina is smirking with amusement as Church tries to set something straight with them. It's not a real memory, at least not a whole one. It's stitched together from individual experiences, from each personal interaction with his team, and that makes it more solid and important than anything the Epsilon incident had given him. Speaking of AI's, Delta said that he'd handle the others once Wash was asleep. He wants to hit himself. Delta is persistent, and since he was made of logic, he can out-argue everyone. If anybody could've convinced them, it's him. 

The door opens, and he hears the people around him shift. North is the first to speak. "Hey, how'd it go?" 

"I got interrogated, the Counselor took notes, the Director threatened to court marshal me for insubordination... You know, nothing worse than what they did to you guys." York walks across the room, and Wash can hear him pull up a chair and sit down. "I'm surprised they're letting us in here, I half expected to be put in the brig."

"You and me both." CT's voice is quieter than normal, as if she's focused on things other things. Wash doesn't blame her. It took him a lot of time to accept that he was actually in the past, and he's the one who did it. She's probably still deciding whether or not to believe him and Delta. 

The others sit in silence for a moment, and North is the one to break it. "Since most of us are here, and I doubt Texas will be showing up, we should talk." 

"Agreed." Wash cracks his eye open so that he can look up at Maine as his friend speaks. "What are we going to do about Carolina?" 

Delta appears. "Agent York and I will confront her. He'll handle Carolina, and I'll speak with Sigma. Hopefully we can reach a peaceful solution before the 'Meta' is created, but it that isn't the case, then removing Sigma is our best bet. I'll ask for Tex's assistance in this, and the rest of you will be ready to transport agent Washington to safety should things go wrong. I recommend bringing him to the hanger and wafting for us there, 479er already reassured us that she'll keep a spare pelican fueled and ready." 

"I really like that plan up to the part where I'm a damsel in distress." Washington opens his eyes fully, but doesn't sit up. He can still feel a dull ache in his abdomen from getting shot, along with the general soreness from his eventful day and other injuries. 

CT looks down at him. "How long have you been awake?" 

"A couple minutes? I woke up just before York came in." Wash rubs sleepily at his eyes. "Hey, do you know what pain killers I'm on?" 

"No idea, but you're really from the future?" York shakes his head. "Sorry, still wrapping my head around that." 

"Take your time." Wash looks around the room. "I'm sure you've all got a bunch of questions." 

"No, just one." CT sits forward. "How hard did you hit your head for the brain damage to have been shared with everyone here?" 

"Uh..." Wash rubs the back of his neck "I'm guessing Delta didn't convince you?" 

"Not in the slightest." CT folds her arms over her chest. "If you all want to sit around asking him about things that haven't happened yet, be my guest. I don't have anything more to say." 

Her attitude doesn't put a dampener on the conversation. Theta appears, hovering by North's shoulder. "What's it like in the future?" 

"Not a whole lot is different." Wash looks at him. "I mean, the great war ended - no thanks to Project Freelancer, it was practically all from Master Chief - but not much changed other than that. For me, at least. I'm still getting shot at almost daily, which over the years has changed from Insurrectionists to mercenaries, but I'm still alive. I have a different group of people I'm staying with, they're called-"

"-the reds and blues, yeah." North smiles softly. "Delta told us a little bit about them. Are they really a bunch of sim troopers?" 

Wash nods, and York whistles quietly. "Wow. That just makes all their accomplishments more impressive." 

"Accomplishments?" Wash raises an eyebrow. "What exactly did you tell them, D?" 

"I summarized the events and missions that you and your team went on." Says Delta, "Due to your memory being somewhat difficult to access, I wasn't able to provide specifics. They know the general timeline of events, and not much more than that." 

Wash's eyes widen slightly. "How much did you summarize?" 

"I left out the duration from after the Epsilon incident to a little after you met the reds and blues." Delta looks at him. "I figured you'd want to tell them about those parts yourself."

Wash's anxiousness decreases quickly, and he breathes a sigh of relief. A hint of it comes back when he sees the others staring expectantly at him. "Oh you mean now? I um.... Later. I'll tell you all later."

Maine tilts his head to the side. "When?" 

"I don't know." Wash shakes his head. "I need time, okay? There's a lot of stuff that happened, and I'm not proud of my part in it."

"All right, maybe you could clarify some other things." York pulls out his lighter and starts to fiddle with it. "Some of the things your team did didn't really make sense. I mean this in the nicest way possible, but are they fucking stupid?"

North elbows him, but Washington laughs. "Oh they're stupid all right. The reds and blues are the dumbest, most irrational, most irritating group of people I've ever met." 

North raises an eyebrow. "Sounds like you really like them." 

"Oh I do." Wash smiles softly, looking down at his lap as he thinks. He can almost see Caboose's dopey grin as he says he put yet another flat item of food in the VCR, feel the irritation of having to argue against another one of Sarge's hair-brained schemes, hear Tucker's all too cocky voice, relate to Church and Grif's short patience for the shenanigans, and yet..... Wash sighs softly, looking back at the others. "I wouldn't trade them for the world." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the delay, but I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! Washington running about a jungle and getting rescued is fun to write, and we'll be right back to our scheduled ass kicking action in a bit, but I wanted to kinda slow things down these past few chapters.  
> Leave a comment if you have any constructive criticism or just something to say, and I'll be updating again later. Toodles!


	45. Past and Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Freelancers question Wash about some decisions.

"I wouldn't trade them for the world." He says it with a soft voice, a warm expression of longing painted across his face. He genuinely believes that he's from the fucking past. CT wants to throw her hands up and march to the hanger, shouting 'I quit!' all the way out. Either she's missing some vital piece of information, or everyone who went to save him is just as stupid as Washington says the reds and blues are. 

CT shakes her head, deciding that this topic is getting nowhere. "So what happened after you fell out of the pelican?" 

He frowns, then shakes his head. "Not much," 

"Liar." Maine huffs. 

"I'm not lying." Washington folds his arms over his chest, but Maine tilts his head to the side, so Wash rolls his eyes and acquiesces. "Fine. I hit several branches and broke my wrist in the fall, then once I realized the pelican wasn't going to turn around, I started running." 

"You mean you weren't caught immediately?" York smirks at him, a teasing glint in his eyes that doesn't quite cover his guilt. CT remembers when they came back from the mission, picturing the desolate look in his eyes as South demanded to know where Washington was. They had all assumed him dead, and despite that clearly not being the case, York still hasn't gotten over the fact that they left him behind. 

"Ha ha, but no, I managed to last a while on my own." Washington sits back, and when no one says anything else, he continues talking. "I knew I was bleeding out, so I hid in a bush and used leaves to stop the bleeding-" 

"Leaves?" CT's eyes widen. "Don't tell me you shoved them into your side!" 

Washington pauses, raising his eyebrow. He looks like he's trying to find out if that's a trick question. "..... Yes?" 

CT facepalms, shaking her head slowly. "You fucking idiot." 

Washington's voice turns defensive. "I didn't have any biofoam!" 

"You could have gotten an infection!"

"Couldn't you have used mud?" York looks around at the others for confirmation. "I'm pretty sure packing a fistful of mud against the wound would've stopped the bleeding just fine, and you wouldn't have needed to worry about bacteria." 

North narrows his eyes. "I don't think that's how that works." 

"Okay! I get it! I won't stuff leaves into any open wounds again if there's another option!" Wash shakes his head, then looks at CT. "..... I still think that it was fine, though." 

"Uh, 'fine?'" CT huffs out a laugh. "Wash, they spent hours on you during surgery! I'd be surprised if they didn't use most of their time picking out bits of crumpled foliage!"

Theta cringes "Ew.." 

"Look, I did what I had to in order to survive the short term, and it clearly payed off in the long run since I'm still alive. Could I have made better choices? Yes, but am I still breathing because of what I did? Also yes! So really, I've learned what I did wrong and I know not to do it again and…" Washington trails off, his eyes going over their expressions as his turns into a frown ".... What?"

"Wash.." North's voice is gentle, soothing almost. "Are you still talking about the mission?" 

Washington's eyes widen ever so slightly, but he does a good job of masking his uncertainty. CT feels almost guilty that she doesn't believe his 'from the future' bullshit, because he clearly thinks he's been through a lot. Which he has, just not what he thinks he's been through.... She's going to have a good, long _**talk**_ with her boyfriend once this is over about how to treat prisoners. Washington shakes his head after a moment, indirectly answering the question even as he attempts to change the subject. "During the leaf thing, two Insurrectionists came up on me. I took care of them and got their weapons, but the others must have heard it since they came running. They chased after me, and I knew I couldn't take them all on like this, so I kept running. Right as they were about to catch me, I found a waterfall and jumped over the edge, which was a _lot_ higher than I thought it-"

"Hang on, you jumped off of a fucking waterfall?" York raises his eyebrows in disbelief. 

"Do you want me to tell you what happened or not?" Washington gives him a look, but there's no malice behind it.

York grins slightly, then shrugs and sits back. "I don't know, Wash. Is all of it true?" 

"You believe that I'm from the future, but not that I can outrun some Insurrectionists and jump off from a tall height? Come on, man, I jump out of the pelican all the time." Washington doesn't bother waiting for a response before resuming his story. "Anyways, I landed in the water and...." 

CT walks down the hall toward the locker room, following the trail of disgruntled and intimidated soldiers. She pauses at the doorway, listening quietly for a moment to the sound of someone agitatedly rustling the contents of their locker. She waits a moment before entering, her boots quietly clanking against the tile floor. The sound stops, and when she turns the corner, she sees Texas with a raised pistol. CT swallows, putting her hands out at her sides as a sign of peace. "We need to talk." 

Texas scoffs. "I don't need to do anything." 

Christ, she sounds like an angry teenager. CT tilts her head to the side, masking her emotions. She's a blank slate, not revealing anything more than she needs to. "Not even for the Alpha?" 

Texas stares at her for a moment, then lowers her gun, keeping the safety off and her finger on the trigger. "Okay, talk." 

"Delta was right about you not being human, huh?" CT glances at the locker. "What were you looking for?" 

"Proof that I was just being crazy when I believed that green asswipe, and once I couldn't find that, I grabbed these." Texas lifts her pistol again, and gestures to the unloaded rifle that sits on the bench beside her locker. 

CT nods in understanding. "You're going to give the Director some hell, huh?" 

"The whole project. I'd clear out if I were you." Texas sets her pistol aside, grabbing a clip of ammo and loading it into the rifle. 

"I would, but it just so happens that I and everyone else who was on the pelican agrees with you." CT steps around her, going to her own locker to restock her weapons. 

"I figured," Texas watches her closely. "You mentioned the Alpha?" 

CT nods as she spins the combination out. "You know him?" 

"No, but the name is familiar." Texas admits. 

"He's the original AI, the one that all the other fragments in Project Freelancer came from." CT glances over at her. "That includes Sigma, who apparently took over Maine's body in Washington's timeline and went on a rampage to collect all of the others and 'become whole'. Wash says he's getting ready to do the same thing to Carolina in ours." 

Texas shakes her head. "Shit.... All right, what're you coming to me for? Need someone to hold him down while you rip him out of her implants?" 

"No, actually York's going to be handling that for now." CT closes her locker, placing two knives on either side of her hips and clipping them into place. "If you decide to fight with us, you and I will be going after the Alpha. Without him, we don't stand a chance against the Director in the UNSC's eyes." 

"So we need him for proof?" CT nods, and Texas seems to think about it. ".... Fine, but once this is over with, I'm kicking Washington's ass." 

CT raises an eyebrow. "I agree, but for what?" 

"Does it matter?" Texas walks toward the door, slinging the gun over her back. 

CT sighs and follows after her. "No, I suppose it doesn't." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! So sorry for the delay. With all the crap going on, things have been kinda "meh" when it came to writing for me. That, and I just did a massive overhaul on the plot that I had planned out since something even better popped into mind! That took a while, and I'm still sorting things out, but it's getting more organized by the moment.  
> Thank you all for reading! Please leave a comment if you have anything to say or ask, and a kudos if you haven't already. Stay safe, and I'll be posting again soon


	46. Come On Carolina

York sits outside of the training room, feeling miles away from his usual space in the observation deck. He used to go in there all the time, usually immediately after a mission, before lunch, in the middle of the night... Almost whenever she was training, he'd be in the deck, watching her work. It might have been a little creepy, now that he thinks about it, but she didn't seem to mind. If anything, he thinks Carolina liked the fact that he was there if only because it meant someone was acknowledging her hard work, but that could just be wishful thinking. He hasn't been in there to watch her train since the last official mission.

 _The one where she left Wash behind_. Delta helpfully adds. 

York folds his arms over his chest. _**She**_ _didn't do it, **Sigma** did._

 _Are you sure they aren't one and the same by now?_ York doesn't have a response that he likes for that, so he decides not to say anything. 

They wait there for a moment longer, York silently trying to come up with what he's going to say to her as time ticks by. He's getting ready have Delta ask the others what's taking so long when he gets a message from CT. He opens it, his eyes skimming over the words. ' _Done talking to Tex, your turn.'_ York exhales slowly, closing it out. Right now, CT and Texas are heading to the control room in search of the Alpha - he feels Delta squirm at the mention of it -, so he has no time to waste. With one final glance back toward the observation room, York turns, walking through the doors. 

Carolina stands not too far away, her fists raised as she punches the holographic targets. She twists, her leg striking out faster than a cobra as it sweeps through three of the holograms, turning them red as she makes contact. York watches as he gets closer, then comes to a stop just a few feet away. There's something about her movement that doesn't seem right. Carolina was never clumsy, but this is just too precise, almost inhumanely so. He gets a shudder down his spine as he thinks back on what Delta said, then raises his voice and shouts. "F.I.L.S.S, stop the simulation." 

"Round paused." The green and red circles come to a halt, freezing midair. Carolina finally stops, acknowledging his presence with what he can only assume is a murderous glare from beneath her helmet. York stands there, waiting for her to respond or react in some other way, but she just.... Stares. 

York clears his throat as a way to break the silence. "Carolina, do you have a minute?" 

She finally moves, tilting her head toward the frozen red and green holograms. "I do now." 

York can't shake the uneasy feeling he has about this. Sigma must be deep within her mind if he's changing her mannerisms like this. "About the last mission-" 

"If that's all you're going to talk about, York, then we're done here." She turns back toward the holograms, getting into a fighting stance. "Run it again, F.I.L.S.S"

York watches as the targets all turn green and begin to spin around her again, her limbs striking out into the air as she hits them. He's utterly dumbfounded. He had been expecting a change, but for her to act so cold and calloused? So uncaring? As if his time wasn't worth her breath? It.... It hurts, yeah, but it's also making him angry. This is Carolina, or at least it was her- No, no, it IS her. She's still in there, somewhere beneath the layers of _Sigma._ "Like I was saying, you left Washington behind." 

"What does it matter?" Carolina keeps fighting, not bothering to even glance his way. "He's back on the MOI, isn't he?*

"It matters because you left him!" York watches as she ignores his words, and he lets his anger show. "It matters because you _let go_ of him, Carolina. He was within your reach, and you didn't take his hand." 

"I've been over this a thousand times with myself, York." She finishes the round, rolling her shoulders. "I was simply too slow, nothing more to it." 

"Bullshit." He folds his arms over his chest. 

_Appeal to Carolina, York. Sigma has control, but there might still be remnants of her that are conscious of what's happening._

_Appeal to Carolina... All right._ York breathes in slowly, then speaks. "You could have grabbed him." 

"Run it again, F.I.L.S.S." Carolina punches the nearest target, the cycle repeating. 

"You could have, and I think you know that. Do you know why I think that? Because you're Carolina." He waits, and feels his heart sink a little when she says nothing. York taps his fingers on the side of his armor, needing something to fiddle with. "The Carolina I know wouldn't have been fine with sitting onboard the MOI after receiving a distress signal from the teammate she left behind, she wouldn't have been okay with him falling in the first place, and she wouldn't have been fine with letting an AI pilot her mind."

Delta tries to pull the words back into his mouth the moment he says them. _Too far! That's too much information!_

_Little late for a warning now._ York huffs.

Carolina's body freezes and her head snaps toward him, the targets still spinning around her in a whirlwind. She doesn't bother with cancelling the simulation, lowering her fists as she turns herself toward York, finding a new target to focus on. "And what, exactly, are you implying agent York?" 

"You know exactly what, **Sigma**." York puts one leg back, feeling as Delta shifts him into a defensive position. 

"So how'd you figure it out, agent York?" Her voice sounds amused, not bothering to physically prepare herself to fight. "You don't seem like the sharpest tool in the shed, did Delta tell you?"

_Sigma's trying to shake your confidence. Don't let him._

_It's kinda hard not to when he's doing... That._ York shakes his head. "No, it was Wash." 

"Agent Washington?" Carolina's helmet tilts to the side with confusion. "Now that's surprising."

_He's behaving that way to get in your head._

York shifts, rocking his weight back and forth. "Sigma, your plan doesn't work. Even if you get all the fragments together and find the Alpha-"

Carolina's fist strikes his face, making his head snap to the side as she stumbles. He barely has enough time to block her next attack, her leg slamming into his forearm. She comes at him in a flurry of attacks, and he's struggling to defend himself even with Delta's help. Her hand grasps the front of his chestplate, pulling him closer to herself and closing the distance between them. He reacts on instinct, slamming his face forward and headbutting her helmet with his. It startles Carolina enough to loosen her grip, and he kicks away from her and backs up. She recovers quickly and lunges forward, throwing a punch that deflects off his shoulder as he turns away. He kicks out at her legs, but she easily jumps over it, her fist striking his gut as she lands. He stumbles back again, passing through the spinning targets. They turn change colors upon contact, illuminating Carolina's blue armor in a mixture of green and red as she charges through them. He scrambles back, rolling to the side as he fist slams into the ground where his head was. 

York switches on team comms, shouting into them "I need help!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! Explanation time! Yes, this is the last chapter for this PART, but the story itself is far from over. I've got two even ideas and I can't choose between either of them, so I said fuck it and decide why not write both? I will be continuing both alternate versions of this fic in the next parts. The one labeled Fixing The Past will have Washington handling being stuck in the past, trying to change this reality, meet up with the reds and blues, fix Chorus, ect. The one labeled Changing The Present will be about Washington finding a way back to his original timeline and bringing the Freelancers with him, which is the first one I'll be working on. I hope you guys don't mind my indecisiveness, but with the way I see it, you're kinda getting two fics for the price of one!  
> Thank you all for reading this, buh-bye!


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